


Violette

by Hanatamago



Series: So I Know [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimilix is only in chapter 13, Fluff, Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Pining, Pre-Time Skip, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), White Heron Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-12-13 22:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: Ashe and Dedue have grown closer over the moons. When Ashe's world shatters, Dedue is there to put him back together, one piece at a time.Graphic content is in Chapters 2 and 5.Dimilix is only vaguely implied until Chapter 13.





	1. Lavender

As all of the students grew more accustomed to life in the monastery, Dedue often found himself drifting from Dimitri’s side. He still watched over the prince night and day, but more often than not, from a distance. Dimitri had thrown himself into his lessons with a strange fervor, which Dedue attributed to the mysterious Professor Byleth who seemed to be the center of each odd happening lately. Of course, the professor was inherently fascinating too. No memory of the past, and no ambition for the future. It was strange, really, but Dedue couldn’t say they weren’t charismatic, at the very least.

Recently, Dimitri had spent even more time training than usual. Dedue couldn’t offer him much in the way of sparring - their fighting styles were too different, but he commended the prince’s dedication. When Dimitri trained alone, he sometimes got this faraway look in his eyes, and Dedue wondered if he should step in and force the prince to rest more. Lately, Felix had taken to sparring with him, sword to lance. It was an odd match. Dimitri would always outrange him, but Felix was far quicker than the prince, weaving in and out between his heavy blows. 

Dedue spent many moons watching over the prince, and he was far more perceptive than his stony demeanor might suggest. He knew when his presence was needed, and when it caused the prince more trouble than it prevented. Felix radiated trouble. His harsh words and harsher blows cut straight through Dimitri’s armor, but Dedue couldn’t help with that. For all of Felix’s complications, when the two sparred, Dimitri looked alive. Anxious sometimes, but present.

Dedue suspected the two of them needed time to figure that out, to slay that beast together. Dedue also couldn’t help with that. He could see the nearly tangible relief in Dimitri’s eyes when Dedue suggested he leave the two alone while they spar. He needed to tend to the gardens, after all. While he always kept Dimitri’s best interests at heart, he couldn’t deny that he also had other reasons for suggesting he leave the prince’s side.

Whenever the prince busied himself with their professor’s strange teatime appointments or assigned tasks, Dedue went about his own tasks. He mostly tended the gardens or prepared food in the kitchens, often accompanied by a small, silver haired boy. 

Being around Ashe was simple. He felt like home, or something closer to home than Dedue had known for some time. He had grown to feel natural in his place at the prince’s side, but it could never compare to the warmth of his small home in Duscur, where everyone around him felt without so many words and spoke with their hands and hearts. Dedue felt that warmth in Ashe’s smile, in the gentle touch of his pale hands. Perhaps he was not as loud or forward as the Duscurs, but he felt with all of his heart, and it showed in his actions. Dedue knew that he, too, had lived through harder times. He had experienced pain as much as any of them, watching his parents wither away while he struggled to support his siblings. Yet his heart was filled with beaming smiles and little laughs. Ashe had an easy laugh and mint eyes full of wonder. Even if Dedue couldn’t always understand where he found such positivity, Ashe’s smiles wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

He knocked on Ashe’s door.

Ashe should have been frightened by him, or hated him, or some combination of the two. It was no secret that Dedue was a Duscur man, and his figure was quite imposing besides. He remembers the first few times Ashe tried to speak to him. He had tripped over his words quite a bit, but admittedly, Duscur was a conversational minefield. Many in the Kingdom believed that Duscur was a land of savages, brutes who ate the enemies they cut down and sacrificed the weak to false, bloody gods. When they asked about his homeland, his origins, it was always as a prelude to an insult, veiled or otherwise.

When Ashe asked about Duscur, it was because he was curious, and (Dedue suspected) because it was an excuse to talk to Dedue more, to hear more of his voice as he told stories about his homeland. Dedue wasn’t sure he had many stories worth telling, But Ashe always seemed to find him interesting. He didn’t mind repeating his stories, either. Ashe loved to hear about their myths, how they worshipped older gods and looked to the stars for guidance. 

Dedue still wondered why Ashe had taken to him. He would often catch Ashe looking at him - it wasn’t until recently that Dedue found out that he was looking to see if he could make the larger man smile. Of course, Dedue was quite stoic, so it was a challenging task. His muted expressions had often served him well as armor against those who wished to hurt him with their words. Ashe, on the other hand, was an open book. Dedue could read him so easily, even in silence. Dedue had watched carefully, picking out all of his small ways he showed his heart. Ashe would twist a lock of his silver hair when he was nervous, and his tongue caught between his teeth when he was concentrating. Ashe blushed easily, but he rarely tried to hide it. It looked nice on him anyhow. Dedue thought so, at least.

* * *

They were cooking late at night when Dedue first noticed how beautiful Ashe truly was. The two had spent hours preparing all the ingredients to bake spiced pies, and they had finally put the first into the oven. They would bake the others tomorrow so they were fresh for lunch, but Ashe never liked to leave without testing the food they had made. So they waited as the test pie baked and the smell of spices filled the kitchen. Sleep fell heavy over Ashe’s eyelids. Dedue could hear him fighting each cute little yawn. Ashe was cute. Dedue tried not to think more on this observation.

“Sit back,” Dedue gestured to the spot beside him on a wooden bench, “I will wake you when the baking is finished.”

Ashe tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, but relented to sit beside the Duscur man, “Dedue, if you’re going to stay awake, then I will too!”

Dedue raised an eyebrow. Ashe looked as if he could fall asleep standing up at this point.

“Tell me a story, so I’ll stay awake.”

“Do you have a story in mind?”

He thought for a bit, “One about the stars. You told me they have different names in Duscur, right?”

“They do.”

“Tell me about them, please.” Ashe yawned.

“To help you stay awake.”

Ashe curled closer into him, resting his head against the larger man’s shoulder. “Yes. And I like your stories.” His silver hair tickled at Dedue’s jaw. It was quite soft, and he smelled sweet. Lavender, perhaps?

“T-Thanks,” Ashe giggled. “Leonie taught me to make soap, and I didn’t want to waste the flowers we had to harvest.”

Dedue kicked himself for letting the thoughts slip out. 

“You can um,” his breath was warm against Dedue’s neck, “You can touch it, i-if you want to, that is.” 

Dedue wondered if Ashe could feel how his words made his heart race. If he felt the same flutter in his chest.

Ashe opened his mouth to say something, worried he’d been too forward, but the words caught in his throat. 

Dedue hesitated. He didn’t want to misread the moment - Ashe was too valuable to him. Yet as he looked down, seeing those rosy cheeks, Dedue let his heart beat faster. He brushed a lock of silver hair aside.

Ashe shivered as a trail of warmth ran across his temple. Dedue gently combed through Ashe’s hair, marveling at its shine. Dedue couldn’t decide which was softer, Ashe’s hair or his skin. He couldn’t decide which he wished to feel against his lips. Both, perhaps. No. Neither. Dedue wrenched himself out of his secret reverie. 

“It is soft.” Dedue pulled his hand away, silently mourning the loss. When he pulled away, he could swear he heard Ashe whine, his face tinted several shades darker than before.

Ashe lifted his head, lips dangerously close to Dedue’s jaw. He could probably see the darker man swallow suddenly or hear his pulse pounding, though if he noticed, he never said anything.

* * *

“Dedue!” Ashe’s voice tore Dedue from his memories, perhaps for the best. “I was wondering if I would see you today.”

“You must have already seen me today in class.” He reflected on that moment often, wondering what might have happened if Dedue hadn’t sensed the smell of burning bread, and if they hadn’t leapt into action to save the pie before it crisped into ash. 

“You know what I mean,” Ashe blushed. He grabbed his cloak and stepped outside the room, closing the door behind him. “Where to?”

“The gardens.” He wondered if Ashe wondered about that moment too. “The Professor insists we must plant more flowers, for the ‘stat boosts’. They were not very specific though, so we will have to choose which flowers to plant.”

“Hmm, lilies perhaps? We may be running out of flower seeds, although the Professor has been planting nothing but Morfis and Boa Fruit seeds for a few weeks now...”

* * *

The two gardened together for some time. Though they didn’t have all the seeds needed to plant new flowers, they whipped the flowerbeds back into shape, weeding out invasive dandelions and the like. Dedue marked sections for each flower type and dug preliminary holes. Ashe sorted out the remaining seeds and picked a few to plant. 

Dedue could think of no better partner. Ashe understood what he needed, always ready with a spade, shears, or seeds. He often asked questions, always curious about Dedue or what he was doing. Yet Ashe was comfortable in silence too, something Dedue appreciated immensely. 

Over the moons, Ashe had coaxed several smiles out of the Duscur man. Dedue truly treasured his time with Ashe; it was no surprise the smaller man was able to affect him this way. Dedue also saw how proud Ashe was of each little smile, how happy it made him to break through his stoic demeanor. So Dedue also did his best to smile for Ashe, as much as he could.

He left it at smiles, even if he wanted more. Even if Dedue’s skin blazed every time those pale little fingers would brush up against him. Even if his heart skipped a beat every time those sparkling mint eyes would look up to him with a question. Even if every time he stood over Ashe in the kitchen to teach him a new trick, he would secretly imagine that silver hair tickling his neck once more. Deep down, Dedue was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Ashe to hear some terrifying lie about his homeland and decide that he was dangerous, a monster like they all say. Ashe would argue, his face would set into that pinched little frown, and he would tell Dedue that he could never fear him like that, and that one day the world would see what a great man he was. 

Dedue still worried.

Cold fingers wrapped around his bicep.

“Dedue?” Ashe’s voice was soft, but he could sense a note of concern, “You there?”

“Ah, Ashe.” Dedue put down his spade, “I apologize. I was distracted.”

“I can see that,” Ashe giggled, “What were you thinking about?”

_You._

The word died in his throat.

“Which flowers grow well together." He lied, "If we plant too many clusters, they will compete for the resources and die.”

“Ah, I would never have thought about that,” Ashe beamed, “You really know your stuff, Dedue.”

Dedue nodded. 

“I managed to find some red and white flower seeds, but we won’t have enough to fill the flower beds for the week. We’ll need to buy some more seeds.” Ashe laid the remaining flower seeds near Dedue’s spade. “Ah, will you go into town with me? I’m sure you’ll have a better idea of which seeds to pick.”

“I must check on His Highness, but I shall plant them with you tomorrow.” Dedue could see the disappointment plain across Ashe’s face - and how he tried to hide it, for Dedue’s sake. “I am sure that the seeds you pick shall bloom beautifully.”

“I-I see.” Ashe plastered on a smile, “Well in that case, I shall see you tomorrow.” And with that, the smaller man was gone.

* * *

Ashe felt a pang of jealousy, but tried his best to shove it away. Dimitri was truly lucky to have such an honorable vassal. Dedue was so dedicated to his prince, so absolute in his duty. All that, and he still made time to see Ashe. If only Dedue saw in himself what Ashe did. They would work on his confidence together. And one day, they would all see how they had misjudged him, how they had been wrong to take him for granted.

Dedue would think of Ashe tonight. Nothing lewd - he would not dishonor Ashe like that. Yet he could not fight the thoughts of Ashe’s comfort, so each night, in his own room, he allowed himself to think freely of what they could be - a guilty pleasure. Ashe’s gentle fingers tracing the shape of his jaw. Silver hair nestled between his shoulder and his neck. Maybe a chaste kiss on the cheeks in some of his fantasies.  
They would stay fantasies, but they were his to treasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dedue is kind of a big ol' rock, but I choose to believe that under that rockness, he's pining hard.  



	2. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes wrong. Why couldn't he have been there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic Non-Con for pretty much this entire chapter. Summary at the end.
> 
> Non-Canon interpretation of Ashe's C-B support with the Professor

In the markets, Ashe ran into the Professor, who was busy selling several solid bars of gold. They shopped together for a time, and Ashe got to put his haggling skills to use more than once. Ashe bought several seeds, including a few exotic ones he knew he would need Dedue’s help to grow. The Professor bought a few vulneraries and a pile of random items ranging from smoked meat to whetstones to ancient coins. At this point, Ashe had given up on understanding the Professor’s ways, and simply accepted that their strange habits must have some stroke of genius in them, or they would not work out so well.

“Gimme that book!” Just as the Professor was paying for their items, a bandit yanked one of the books off of the shopkeeper’s table.

“Hey, creep!” the shopkeeper yelled, “Don't touch the merch! What the-?!” The ruffian ran off. “Somebody catch that thief! Cut him in half, like my prices!”

He paid for the book, earning a quizzical look from the Professor. It was rather pricey. Of course, Ashe had sympathy for the thief, having been in his position not so many years ago.  
“Don't you worry. That thief will be paying me back, just as soon as I catch him. Head on back to the monastery, Professor. I'll take care of everything here!”

The Professor seemed skeptical, but shrugged and left him to it. Ashe ran off to find the thief, guessing at where he might have gone when he himself was a pickpocket. He wove through the alleyways with ease, following the sounds of footsteps and his own urban intuition. Soon enough, he found the thief rummaging through a knapsack in the alleyways. Ashe approached cautiously. If he surprised the thief, then he might get jumpy and attack. Ashe understood what it was like to need money, to be so desperate that stealing was the only option. He would always regret how he had Still, he felt for the dagger that he always kept in his belt. It was there.

“Why did you steal that book?” Ashe tried to keep his tone even.

“None of your business, do-gooder.” The thief scoffed, “Have you come to deliver the law, then?”

Ashe frowned. “N-No, I am no guard.” He held his hands up, empty.

The thief turned around to face him. A scar cut across his nose, running down into his lips. He glared menacingly. “Then why have you come, to mock the poor?”

“O-of course not!” Ashe squeaked, “I wish only to help. I settled your debt with the shopkeeper, I understand-”

“You don’t seem to understand much at all.” The bandit sneered at him, drawing a curved dagger as he approached. Ashe reached for his own dagger, but froze as he felt a gloved fist closing around his shoulder. Ashe whirled around. Three other thieves stalked down the alleyway, cornering him. The gloved thief grabbed his right arm, twisting it behind his back. Ashe let out a pained yelp as his dagger clattered to the ground. Another bandit yanked his bow away, not that it would have been of much use in such close quarters. The original bandit abandoned his knapsack and approached the others. Ashe was surrounded. The scarred thief pushed him up against the bricks, pinning his arms with one hand while the other slithered around his waistline.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The thief leaned in so close Ashe could feel his hot breath across his cheeks. He reeked of booze and iron. Ashe kicked and struggled, but he had never been the strongest in his class, instead using his agility to succeed with his bow. The Professor had always reminded him of this weakness, and emphasized how important it was that he keep distance between himself and his enemies. If they were to get too close… to overpower him or cut off his escapes… Well, Ashe would be helpless. Another thief tore at his clothes, easily ripping through the front of his tunic.

“P-please…” Ashe whimpered, “Don’t…” Hot tears of shame rolled down his face. 

“Aww, look, the poor kid is scared.” a thief mocked, “Quit whining, you're gonna get laid.”

A calloused hand clamped over his mouth. Ashe couldn’t even tell who it belonged to. The hand at his waist started yanking at his trousers, fumbling with the belt. Tears blurred his vision. Ashe continued to struggle. He was clearly overpowered and outnumbered, but he couldn’t just give up. He bit down on the hand covering his mouth, satisfied when he heard a bandit hiss in pain.

“Eh?! Fucker bit me!” The hand pulled away from his mouth, and Ashe let out a loud panicked cry. If someone could hear him, anyone. Maybe the guards, or the Professor, or maybe Dedue had wondered why he was taking so long… Anyone… Please…

A harsh blow landed across his face, sending bright sparks of pain through his vision. Another blow landed, then another. Ashe was stunned, dazed by the concussive pain and awful ringing in his ears. He crumpled to the floor, comforted only by the ground below him. A brief comfort. Too brief.

One of the bandits grabbed his throat, hoisting him up in the air and slamming him against the wall once more. He couldn’t breathe. Ashe couldn’t breathe. He clawed at the hand choking him, but it was futile. His vision began to swim. Were there four bandits, or eight? Did it matter? He would surely die here.

The bandit dropped Ashe, and he crumpled to the ground once more, this time on all fours. He gasped for air, coughing and retching while his lungs burned. Ashe vaguely felt his pants being torn off as someone pulled his arms behind his back. His elbows wobbled as a metal boot crashed against his abdomen. He collapsed, breathless. Another one of the bandits yanked at his silver hair, pulling Ashe’s face against his trousers. His cheek pressed against something hard and warm. His stomach turned. He wanted to vomit, to cry out, to close his eyes and run away, or just die. Anything. Anything but this.

The bandit in front of him wiggled his trousers down, exposing his thick, half-hard length. Ashe thought about keeping his mouth shut, a final act of defiance, but the bandit’s other hand wrapped around his throat. The thief clucked in disapproval, and pressed down lightly on his Adam’s apple. Ashe let his mouth fall open, breath heavy against the cloth.

“Mmm,” The bandit stroked his face, deceptively gentle, “Decided to be a good little whelp now?”

Weak. He was pathetic. Ashe felt nauseous. Felix would have fought back until the bandits knocked him unconscious, if they could. More likely, he would have slashed them to bits and told them to bring more friends next time. Ingrid would have kicked and scratched and taken at least one of them out, if not more. Dedue… Dedue never would have gotten overpowered, so at least he could say that was a silly comparison.

The bandit dragged Ashe further into his lap, then tilted his head back so that he was forced to meet the eyes of his aggressors. His grasp on Ashe’s silver hair only grew tighter.

“Open your mouth, whore,” the bandit smirked, “I’ve got a nice gift for a lady like you.”

Ashe complied. Gods, why couldn’t he be more like Felix, less afraid of the pain.

The bandit laughed. It was a harsh, gravelly sound. If Ashe had maintained any hope, any pride, it would have been crushed then and there. He leaned in, close enough to kiss Ashe, as though a kiss wouldn’t be a somehow more perverse mockery of this whole situation.

The bandit spit into his mouth. Ashe winced, too stunned to even process this new level of abuse. Too stunned to struggle as the bandit pushed his mouth down onto his now fully hardened length. Ashe gagged at first. He tried to pull off, but the bandit controlled his head with an iron grip on his hair, tugging him up and down in time with his desire. Ashe’s voice had given out some time ago. His screams were silent now. His eyes and throat burned with salt and acid, and his jaw began to burn at the stretch.

He felt nails dragging at his hips and thighs, bruising grasps repositioning him so that each of the bandits had a turn to pinch or smack at the bare skin. He heard some conversation behind him, probably some mix of humiliation and lust. Ashe didn’t hear. His mind was too addled, and perhaps it was best if he could just drown them out, just ignore them, just pretend he was somewhere else.

White hot pain flooded every inch of his being as one of the bandits behind him forced himself inside. Ashe gagged around the other bandit’s cock. He could only let out choked sobs, muffled by the thief in his mouth. It was too much. Ashe froze. His body went limp, numb to the world around him, and his mind went blank. Ashe crawled out of his body and watched from the rooftop. He watched as the bandits took turns, each having their way with him. Logically he knew it couldn’t have taken long, but it was certainly gruesome. 

Eventually, Ashe couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He laid back on the tiles, gazing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set. Perhaps it had taken longer than he thought. When he looked back to the alleyway, the thieves had begun to disperse. The scarred bandit left Ashe with a parting kick, driving his metal boot into Ashe’s ribs. 

Ashe coughed and retched, spewing seed and saliva onto the ground. Over, and over, until his throat ran dry and burned with pure acid and bile. He collapsed next to the puddle of fluids, too tired to care if they seeped into his hair. Ashe didn’t want to re-enter his body. He looked pathetic. Broken. Dead, or near enough. Blood and seed dripped down his thighs. Ashe couldn’t feel anything. Perhaps that was a small mercy. He could die like this. Maybe that would be for the best. Ashe curled into a tight ball, hugging his knees to his chest. If he made himself small enough, maybe he could cease to exist. Ashe heard something in the distance. Though he couldn’t quite make out the words or voice, the sound tugged him back into his shivering body. He shut his eyes, trying to drown it all out.

* * *

“Ashe? Are you there?” Dedue called out through the alleys. The market was closing, and he had found no trace of the silver-haired boy. The Professor had mentioned running into him at the markets, but the hour grew late - Ashe should have returned by now. Dedue had brought the Professor and Caspar down to the town to search with him once more. They fanned out, wandering through the alleyways, calling his name, but never hearing any response. Dedue feared the worst. They searched for hours. 

The sky was dark and speckled with stars when Dedue found him, wrapped up into a quivering little ball. At first, Dedue could only stare wordlessly. Ashe looked hurt and lost, but… It took him a moment to piece the scene together, as though his mind couldn’t bear to see the truth of things. Dedue had feared Ashe's death. He feared losing the bright-eyed boy who saw all the good in the world. But this? Dedue couldn't possibly have prepared himself to see this. The thought that anyone could hurt Ashe was painful, but for someone to... to _violate_ him like this... It was monstrous.

“Ashe…” Dedue whispered. The silver-haired boy didn’t respond, so he tried again, leaning in closer, “Ashe, please.” When he stayed silent, Dedue slowly reached out to touch Ashe’s arm. He winced at the touch, shrinking away, but the contact seemed to at least break through some of his haze, albeit with fear. Ashe looked up to the Duscur man, mint eyes wobbling with terror. He flinched, seemingly bracing for a hit, but when no pain followed, his eyes began to clear.

“D-Dedue…” Ashe croaked. His voice was hoarse, nearly gone.

Dedue took his cloak off and began to wrap Ashe up in the thick fabric. He tensed.  
“I am going to take you back to the monastery, is that alright?”

Ashe seemed to relax a little. He managed a small nod, but little else.

Dedue worked quickly, gathering the smaller boy into his arms while he could still think clearly. Before his blood truly began to boil, and his eyes blurred with anger. A dangerous cocktail of emotions swirled in the pit of his stomach. He was enraged, ready to crush anyone who could dare hurt someone so innocent, so sweet, and so giving as Ashe. He was disgusted that there were any out there who could commit an act so vile. More than anything, Dedue was ashamed. He never should have left Ashe to go to the markets alone. Even if Ashe was as capable as any other student at Garreg Mach, even if he had traveled to the markets on his own countless times before, Dedue should have been there. Ashe had wanted him there. Dedue wished he had been there. 

Dedue wanted to find Ashe’s aggressors, and he wanted to break them. He could not turn back the clock and defend Ashe from the ruffians that did this to him, but he could at least deliver justice. But right now, Ashe needed him more than ever, so he would not let his drive for vengeance get in the way of caring for the silver haired boy, who mattered more to him than anything in the world, even vengeance. A strange thought. Dimitri was his prince, his charge. Was it improper for him to think of Ashe as more important? The thought had felt so natural, so obvious. Whatever the case, this was not the time for Dedue to grapple with such feelings. He cradled Ashe as gently as he could, trying to avoid putting pressure on the bruises he had seen. 

The Professor found them as Dedue was carrying him out of the alleyway. They shared a brief moment of wordless understanding before the Professor spoke.

“Head back to the monastery. Take him straight to Manuela,” the Professor looked back towards the market. “I will find Caspar.”

* * *

When Ashe opened his eyes again, he could see the monastery in the distance. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Dedue had made Ashe wanted to cry, to break down, but his body had run out of tears. He could not weep. He trembled against Dedue’s armored chest, wrapping the cloak around him as tight as he could. Dedue might have said something to him, but he couldn’t hear him, too lost in his own waking nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
After running into a thief at the market (Ashe-Byleth's C support), Ashe decides to follow the ruffian and confront him about the stolen book. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned, and Ashe is assaulted by a group of bandits. After a frenzied search, Dedue finds Ashe and carries him back to the monastery.


	3. Pipedream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-graphic non-con later on in this chapter

Dedue knocked once. No response.

Twice, then. Professor Manuela grumbled from the other side of the door.  
“Calling on me at this hour? Why, you should know to at least woo a lady before summoning her to midnight rendezvouses! I’m not so desperate, you know.” 

Dedue knocked a third time. He couldn’t find the words, but he hoped his knocking was urgent enough to communicate the message. He waited a moment, resolving to kick down the door if she didn't answer within the next minute. Luckily, Manuela answered the door with seconds to spare.

“What?!” The professor snapped, exasperated and still sluggish with sleep. “Oh, Dedue! Not the face I had expected to see.”

Dedue let his gaze slip downwards to the small boy cradled in his arms. He heard a gasp as she followed his eyes down. Seeing Ashe’s limp body like that… Dedue could almost see her heart sinking. "What happened?" Dedue could only shake his head.

“Oh Ashe, you poor, sweet boy.” Manuela gathered her cloaks and lead Dedue to the infirmary, where she patted at a bed. "Not all the world is so good as we wish to see it..." He laid Ashe down gently. He was sleeping now. At least he could get some rest, however fitful. She looked at Ashe, but Dedue could sense her focus drifting, as though she was seeing someone else on the bed. She gingerly peeled away the cloak to check his wounds.

Dark, multicolored bruises blossomed across his abdomen, crawling up all the way to his chest. Deep red patches littered his hips and thighs, crisscrossed by pink scratches dragging across his skin. His arms and legs were mostly untouched, save for darkened welts at his wrists and faint bruises on his knees. Ashe was unquestionably brutalized, but Dedue knew Manuela could take care of the injuries, and perhaps he would see Ashe smile again. Dedue hadn’t let himself linger too long on Ashe’s face. He couldn’t meet those faraway mint eyes, not until Ashe was well again, not until Dedue delivered him justice. But perhaps he could allow himself to gaze upon his sleeping form. Maybe it would ease some of the pain.

Dedue’s blood ran cold. His shame slowly twisted and turned, broiling into anger as he noticed the last of Ashe’s injuries - violet bruises slithering around his neck in the clear shape of a hand. That they had handled Ashe like that… His mind was racing, so many thoughts blurring together into blind fury. 

Manuela ushered him out of the room, murmuring something. He didn’t hear, too caught up in his rage and those vile bruises now burned into his memory. Faith magic was often silent, manifesting more commonly as sparks of light and warmth. It could be comforting, but also painful in its own ways. As the magic increases a person’s vitality, so, too, can it remind the body to feel the natural pain of stitching itself back together all at once. 

Dedue sat outside the silent room for what felt like hours. He could hear Manuela pacing back and forth every so often, but little else. The Professor came by twice. Once to bring Dedue food, which he thanked the Professor for, though he had no stomach for it. The second time, they slipped into the infirmary to speak with Manuela. Their conversation was hushed, and strain as he may, Dedue couldn’t make out their words through the wall.

* * *

When Manuela finally came to call on him, the sky had begun to lighten.

“Dedue. A word?” Manuela wearily shut the door to the infirmary before he could glance inside. He nodded. The healer sighed and gestured for him to follow as she paced towards the end of the hall. Dedue followed her out into the open air.

“Thank you for bringing Ashe back to us, Dedue. I have no doubt that you care for him a great deal.”  
When had she noticed? Thinking back, perhaps he had noticed her lurking about the garden on a few occasions. Or perhaps his more current concern simply broke through his stoic mask. But then, anyone would be concerned, and anyone would have found Ashe and brought him back.

“Any one of us would have done the same.” Manuela shot Dedue a look that he couldn’t quite decipher. 

“In any case, Ashe has quite a bit of healing to do. My magic can heal his outer wounds, but faith magic isn’t quite free. He’ll be sore for a while once he wakes up.” She handed him a glass vial filled with a thick blue liquid. “This will take care of most of the pain. Two drops in a glass of tea, no more than twice a day. I’m trusting you with this.”

“Not Ashe?”

Manuela sighed. “His body will heal with time, I simply accelerate the process. And I try to ease pain where I can. There are, unfortunately, some wounds that I cannot heal - wounds that are not so easily treated.”

Dedue silently nodded. He understood the message behind her words.

“I trust you will take care of him, Dedue. It will take time, perhaps quite a long time. I ask that you follow his lead, and let him decide when he wishes to speak to you and the others. Until then, I have instructed the Professor to inform your house leader that Ashe has been injured and will require some time to recover. Anything else is Ashe’s to share.”

Dedue nodded once more. 

“He’ll feel more at ease in his own room. I’ve done all I can here, but if there’s anything… You know where to find me.”

* * *

Dedue smelled of spices. Mostly cardamom and cinnamon, from the pies that they had been working on. But more than that, too. When Ashe leaned in close, he could smell warmer spices - nutmeg and cloves, and all the yellow spices from Duscur that Ashe was still learning the names of. Dedue was so _intoxicating_, and yet he never seemed to realize how deeply he affected Ashe. The silver-haired man had taken to him like a moth to flame. Dedue was his hearth - always warm, always comforting, even in the bitterest chill. He felt like home, like his father’s restaurant and Lonato’s quiet sitting room all wrapped into one. Maybe he was not so loud as his siblings at home, but Dedue was expressive in his own ways.

“Soft,” Dedue mumbled, “Hmm, lavender?” Ashe flushed, suddenly realizing that Dedue was just as close to him as he was the Duscur man. 

“T-thanks!” He squeaked, “Leonie taught me to make soap, and I didn’t want to waste the flowers we had to harvest.” He had made soap from the flowers Dedue planted not so long ago. He thought it was quite clever, and every time he used the soap, he thought of Dedue working in the gardens. Ashe vaguely wondered if he could press some spices into his next batch.

“You can um,” The words were spilling out too fast, “You can touch it, i-if you want to, that is.”  
Ashe regretted them as soon as they left his mouth. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ Dedue to stroke his hair - in fact, he wanted that _very_ much. Ashe was only frightened that his words would betray his innermost thoughts. His desire that he wrapped so carefully in casual touches and sweet smiles. If anyone asked, he could brush it off as a close friendship, and how it was easier to express himself with touches than words. Maybe one day, Ashe would tell Dedue how he truly felt, but until then, he didn’t want to ruin this. Especially now, when Dedue held him so close - though Ashe had practically invited himself into the Duscur man’s beautifully toned arms. Ashe held his breath, trying desperately to find the words, some way to laugh this off and forget the whole thing if Dedue wanted to. He had ruined this, hadn’t he. He opened his mouth, reaching for something to say. Maybe some-

A rough, padded fingertip smoothed over Ashe’s temple, brushing some silver hair aside and leaving a path of heat in its wake. Ashe’s cheeks were already burning, but he absolutely blazed at the shy touch. Dedue was always so gentle, so careful with his movements. Ashe had never seen him bruise even the most delicate flowers in the greenhouse. 

Ashe had always been ticklish, but that didn’t describe the unsteady fluttering in his chest now. He felt like he could laugh, or he could cry, or maybe both at once, actually. Nervous energy bubbled up in his throat, and he bit back what would have been a rather mortifying whimper as Dedue pulled his hand away. Dedue had touched his face a few times before, if things got a little messy in the kitchen or in the gardens. He had an almost motherly urge to wipe the little specks of dirt and sugar from his pale, spotted cheeks. It was incredibly endearing, and Ashe blushed every time. 

But this… This was different. There was nothing to wipe away now - Dedue touched Ashe because he wanted to, and it felt so terribly _intimate_. Ashe wished he would do it again and again.

As if the Goddess herself had heard his wish, Dedue’s fingers slipped into his hair, letting the silver locks fall and tangle around them. He was so warm, and so close… Dedue’s hands were much larger than Ashe’s own. Rough calluses stretched across his palms, worn from where he gripped his axe in battle. But his hands weren’t made for war, not really. Not when his touch could be so delicate, so gentle and slow.

Dedue combed through his hair, brushing through the locks with such care. Goddess, that felt nice. He had dreamed of this, of course. He had dreamed of all sorts of things like this. He imagined those rough hands dragging up his sides, or resting at his hips, rubbing deep circles into the small of his back. 

Sometimes, he imagined Dedue’s hands venturing lower. Oh, how they would feel against his thighs, or around him, inside of him. Ashe’s private thoughts grew terribly lewd sometimes, but the Goddess would forgive him. If she saw him, if she felt those hands, he was sure she would understand.

The hand clenched around his hair. The tension was new, but not necessarily unwelcome. But its hold tightened and tightened, until tears dripped freely from Ashe’s eyes. “H-hey, that hurts… Dedue!” His voice shook violently, “Please s-stop.”

Dedue’s hand yanked him up, out of the comfortable pocket of warmth he had found. Ashe cried out in pain. He was so lost, so confused. The kitchen grew dark, and the spices on the air faded, replaced with the stench of iron and unwashed bodies. Dedue’s face twisted and blurred, contorting into some monstrous cross between the Duscur man’s calm face and the scarred sneer of the bandit who had held him like this before. The monster’s other hand slithered around Ashe’s waist, gripping tightly at his side. It’s grip only grew tighter and tighter, easily bruising at this point. 

No. _No._ **No.**

This was all wrong, this was all so, terribly wrong. Ashe sobbed, arching into its grasp to relieve what tension he could. 

“Won’t you be good for me, little whore?” It wasn’t Dedue’s voice, but it wasn’t the bandit’s either. Even in his worst nightmare, the words sounded unnatural in Dedue’s mouth. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the monster, but the hand continued to jerk him around. When he opened his eyes again, he was on the ground in the alleyway, and the hand dragged his face towards rough cotton trousers. Stray pebbles dug into his hands and knees. Darkness surrounded him now - there was nowhere to run, no way to look away. Nothing but this nightmare.

When a shadowy hand curled around his throat, Ashe was actually glad for the dizzying relief. His body reacted on its own, clawing at the hand to little avail. Secretly, he thanked the Goddess as his vision swam, and his senses blurred into nothingness.


	4. Flinch

Ashe woke up in a cold sweat, still clawing at his throat to pull the hands away, but there were none. He coughed and sputtered to consciousness. The coughing turned into retching, and acid bubbled up in his throat, but his hands and mouth stayed dry. His stomach had long been emptied of bile. 

The pain hit him all at once, far worse in reality than the muted pain of his nightmare. Everything burned as though a thousand pins of lightning had pricked each inch of his skin, an unfortunate side effect of powerful faith magic. Ashe's head throbbed, only made worse by the harsh noon light filtering through the window above his door. His dreams assaulted his mind, and the waking world assaulted his body.

But Ashe had survived. Or his body had, anyway. He remembered relatively little after he slipped down from the rooftops, crawling back into the shell the bandits had hollowed him into. He remembered Dedue’s voice as gentle hands wrapped him into a dark blanket. He remembered glimpses of Garreg Mach in the moonlight, slowly moving closer. He remembered the smell of cardamom and cinnamon. 

Then, nothing. Nothing until now. Ashe found himself curled into his bed, tucked under the covers. At some point, he had been changed into plain linens from the infirmary. His skin and hair smelled faintly bitter. He recognized the smell from past visits to the infirmary, perhaps some sort of disinfectant?

Someone had brought extra blankets. A small tallow candle burned in the center of his desk, spreading the scent of vanilla all through the room. It was calming enough. Well, as calming as a candle could be in the face of everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. Next to the candle stood a small glass cup filled with water - an impromptu vase for a few perfect daffodils.

Dedue, then. He must have put all of this together, how kind of him. Yes, he was kind and gentle, and very much not that _thing_ from his nightmares. Ashe took the cup and held it close. The flowers smelled quite nice, but eventually they would wilt, having been plucked from their friends in the greenhouse. Eventually, they would wither and die, and the sweet smell would fade. 

Ashe put the flowers back. 

He didn’t want to fall back asleep and grant the nightmares permission to return, but he didn’t want to hurt anymore either. Ashe just stared up at the ceiling for a while and tried to lose himself somewhere between the warm vanilla and crackling noises from the candle. He tried to channel happier feelings, but they never quite came. For the first time, his well ran dry.

Ashe piled up some of the blankets, building them into a tangled nest of woolen fabric and crawled inside. He would just rest his eyes a bit. If sleep came, then he supposed it was inevitable.

* * *

The training grounds could sometimes be quite noisy, especially when Dimitri and Felix sparred. Dimitri still struggled to keep his own strength in check, and Felix seemed to take pride in riling him up to the point where his charges grew clumsy, but any hit he landed would send Felix staggering backwards.

Today was no exception. Dedue heard the sound of metal clattering across the floor and dull thuds of impact. As he grew closer to the grounds, however, he heard something far more interesting than usual.

“Do your worst, boar,” Felix snarled, panting heavily, “If you want something, then _take it_.”

Ah. So they were figuring things out, then.

How to approach this delicately. Dedue could wait, but he was reluctant to come back later. He could cough or something, but there was no way that he could feign ignorance to the situation that way. He thought for a long moment, then settled for knocking over a rack of shields. It could have been an accident, though it surely wasn’t.

“S-Shit.” Felix swore. Dedue didn’t miss the weakness in his voice, “There’s someone…” Dedue heard metal scratching against the stone. He started to right the shield rack, placing each piece of equipment where it had been before. A moment passed.

“Ah, Dedue!” Dimitri rushed out of the sparring grounds. He was rather flushed, presumably from his ‘sparring’, which Dedue would never comment on. Knowing Felix, nothing they did would ever come without a fight anyways. “Allow me to assist you.” He knelt down next to the Duscur man, picking up a few shields to hang on the racks.

“Ah, Your Highness. I was just looking for you. I apologize for the inconvenience. I wished to speak with you on a private matter.”

“Ah, no, Felix and I have been sparring for quite some time.” Dimitri’s breath was heavy, and his words came out stilted. “What is on your mind, Dedue?”

“I am told that the Professor has informed you of Ashe’s condition."

The prince nodded. “Yes, Professor Byleth spoke with me this morning on the matter. I am sorry, Dedue, I know the two of you are quite close. I shall pray to the Goddess for his swift recovery, but he needn’t strain himself now. I’ve arranged to have Annette write a separate copy of our class notes for him, so that he does not fall behind while he recovers.”

“That is very thoughtful, Your Highness.”

“Dedue?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Perhaps I cannot convince you not to fret over me, but I must insist that you relax in your duties, at least for the time being.” Dimitri sighed, “I would request that you take the time to look after Ashe while he recovers. The Professor mentioned that you were the one to bring him back to the monastery.”

Dimitri paused. “He thinks the world of you, Dedue.”

Dedue blinked.

“I see.”

“I am quite safe here in the monastery, save for Felix.” The prince groaned, ”Though I fear there is little to be done about him… What I am trying to say is that Ashe needs you by his side now more than I.”

Dedue nodded. “I had come to request as much. Please let me know if you require me, though.”

“Ah. Well, then,” Dimitri beamed, “You have my thanks. Felix has kept me rather busy as of late. But yes, I will let you know. For now, save your worries for Ashe. He is our best archer, after all.”

* * *

Ashe woke with a start. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, though the blankets had been quite cozy. The warmth must have sucked him under. His wounds still ached, but the weight of the blankets seemed to numb the pain somewhat. Still, his body blazed with the exertion of stitching itself together.

Someone knocked at the door. 

Ashe burrowed back into the blankets, wishing he could disappear inside of them, like a cloak of invisibility that he had once read about in the great tales of heroes past.

The knock came again. “Ashe? It is Dedue.”

“O-oh Dedue…” Ashe’s heart crawled up into his throat. He wasn’t prepared to see Dedue yet. The nightmares were still so fresh, and, well… He didn’t want Dedue to see him like this either. Not when he felt so… gross and weak. 

“I have brought food and medicine.” Ashe’s stomach growled. Ugh. The prospect of food was quite compelling. And Manuela would beat him worse if he didn’t take his medicine on the proper schedule. He’d seen as much when Caspar tried to skip out on mandatory rest after breaking anywhere from one to four bones. Brawling could be quite dangerous; Ashe preferred to stay far away from his enemies. 

“You can c-come in.” Ashe wrapped the blankets around himself tighter. He rolled over to face the wall. “Just um, leave it on the desk.” Ashe choked on his words as the door opened. Scattered beams of light pushed through the doorway. Dedue was so much closer now. But he was nice, and kind, and gentle, and not a monster. Ashe trembled all the same.

“How are you feeling?”

“T-tired. Sorry, I…” Ashe tried to figure out the best way to tell Dedue to leave. “I need to rest…”

“You do. I will leave it here.” Porcelain clinked together as he set the dishes on the table. Ashe could smell the faint aroma of sharp mint piercing through a cloud of vanilla. Dedue brought fish soup and tiny little tomato sandwiches from the dining hall. It was no Duscur cuisine, though it would do. “The medicine is in the tea, drink the full cup.”

“Thank you…”

“I will come back later tonight with dinner.” Heavy footsteps. Dedue was leaving. 

“D-Dedue?” Ashe paused. Dedue made a sound indicating that he had heard the quiet address. “Thank you f-for the flowers. They’re lovely, as always.”

“Get some rest, Ashe.”

Ashe could hear one of those rare little smiles in the Duscur man’s voice.

* * *

“Dinner.”

True to his word, Dedue did return later, and Ashe let him in again. The soup and sandwiches might have briefly tided Ashe over, but Dedue could hear his stomach rumbling now. This time, he brought a spiced chicken stew with roasted vegetables. Dedue hadn’t had the time to develop the flavors as well as he liked, but he hoped that the taste of familiar spices would put Ashe at ease. Dedue approached the bed to set the dishes and teapot within his reach.

Ashe flinched. 

It was small, almost imperceptible, but Dedue noticed. After all, he had always watched Ashe very carefully, to the point where sometimes Dedue understood what Ashe was thinking before he himself did. He studied closely and learned all of the silver-haired boy’s little tells, committing each tiny bitten lip and furrowed brow to memory. 

In this moment, Ashe was frightened. 

Ashe was frightened by Dedue.

Dedue was used to the way that people in the Kingdom would shrink away from him, thinking him some Duscur beast who probably ate children alive and hung the heads of knights onto his reptilian mount. He had long since steeled himself against the sharp pangs of anguish stabbing at his heart while children hid from him behind their mothers’ skirts. He had also steeled himself against the disgusted glares of those mothers, clutching their children close. 

For some incomprehensible reason, Ashe was different. He was a fool to be, of course. A kind, loving fool who would glare back at those mothers and shame their ignorance and ill-conceived fear of the Duscur man. Dedue warned him that people would talk if he spent too much time with a man of his people. They would slander him as a Duscur sympathizer, disloyal to the crown, and one day, they might reject any claim Ashe had to House Gaspard.

_Let them talk._ Ashe would say. _They just haven’t given you a chance, but one day they’ll see what I see._

And now, Ashe was afraid of Dedue, too, and it broke him.

“I…” Dedue trailed off. He should have been there. Shame coiled around some shattered mound in his chest, “I should go, Ashe. Please take care of yourself.”

* * *

“You ought to get back to Dimitri. He’d fall apart without you.” Ashe was shocked by the venom that slipped out into his words. He hadn’t intended them to come off so harshly. Despite how he felt, he hadn’t intended to hurt Dedue.

Dedue looked genuinely dumbstruck.

“Wait, Goddess, I’m sorry Dedue,” He looked away, balling his fists into the blankets.” I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I didn’t mean-”

“Ashe.”

“I know how much he did for you, and I think it’s really honorable - your oath to him and all...”

“_Ashe_”

“I-I just don’t want you to think that I’m mad or anything, b-because I’m not, and I know it’s your duty and I know h-how important he is to you and-”

“Ashe, stop talking.” Dedue’s teal gaze was soft, but piercing in its own sincerity, Ashe knew he was rambling. “His Highness is my charge, and I am his vassal. I will follow his lead and stand by his side. If needed, I shall gladly repay my debts with my life.”

Dedue knelt by the bed. He reached out very slowly; Ashe let Dedue take his hand.

“And you are my friend, and I wish to protect you just the same. Ashe, I…,” Dedue faltered for a moment. “I care for you. You are important to me as well, not because you I owe you a life debt, but because you are my friend, and you are very dear to me. I would stand by your side, if you would still have me.”

“D-Dedue…” Outside of his stories of Duscur, Ashe had rarely witnessed Dedue speak at such length, and never so deeply about his own feelings. Goddess, of course Ashe would have him!

“I should have been with you the other day.” He squeezed Ashe’s hand, “I am deeply sorry... I have let you down, Ashe.” Dedue’s words were so expressive; it tore at his heart.

“Oh Dedue, no…,” Ashe whispered, “No, you… I should have been more careful. I was being foolish, and…” He choked up. Shimmering tears pushed at his waterline.

Dedue shook his head, “Please, allow me to help you. Allow me to make this right.”

“I d-don’t blame you Dedue. There is nothing you must make right.” Ashe’s tears fell freely now. Wet little spots speckled his blankets.

“Ashe… You are too forgiving.” Dedue gazed up at him. “When you are well, then I will accept your forgiveness.”

Ashe nodded, knowing his voice would only waver and crack if he tried to speak. He tightened his hold around Dedue’s fingers. Dedue reached up with his other hand, gently wiping tears from Ashe’s cheeks with his thumb. Ashe leaned into the warmth, no longer frightened at all. He was home.

“Drink your tea.”

Ashe giggled a bit at that. “You’ll j-join me for teatime, of course.” After everything that had happened, tea was supposed to be the answer. He couldn’t deny that the minty steam was refreshing, and the warmth was always welcome. Dedue was always so careful, but it was still funny to see him cradling the little porcelain teacup in his oversized hands.

Dedue dropped two tiny beads of the blue slurry into Ashe’s teacup before handing it over. “Manuela says this will help with the pain.”

“Thank you, Dedue. The soup smells delicious.”

* * *

In his dreams, Ashe curled up against Dedue. He was warm, and still smelled of cardamom and cinnamon. Dedue’s arm stretched across his waist, pulling him close. Ashe watched the dream Dedue for a while, letting the rise and fall of the Duscur man’s chest lull him into a peaceful rest. He waited for the darkness, for the twisted faces and pain.

They never came.

Perhaps the Goddess would let him have this, if only for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written fanfiction for a few different fandoms, but I've never actually posted posted anything I've written before, so this is pretty wild. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it and invested, I love hearing what you think! It always wants to make me write more. Thanks to everyone for your support :)


	5. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it funny how after the time skip, the garden was still exactly the same. But it’s almost even more unrealistic how your plants grow in a single week! I suppose it’s lucky for Dedue, though.
> 
> Warning: Self-Mutilation

As the end of the month approached, a heavy fog settled over the Blue Lions class. Weeks before, Byleth revealed that their next mission was to confront Miklan Gautier, who now wielded the Lance of Ruin. It was no secret that Sylvain and Miklan had a strained relationship, but it seemed cruel that Rhea would task _him_ with conquering his own flesh and blood. As the end of the moon approached, the mission weighed heavy on all of the students, but Sylvain most of all. If he hadn’t been occupied with his own crisis, Ashe might have admired how Sylvain had pushed himself to train harder this month. Ashe and, by Dimitri’s unyielding insistence, Dedue would not be joining the rest of their house for the mission. The Professor didn’t mind; they had also been badgering Lysithea to join the Blue Lions for _months_, and this would be her first mission in the house. 

Ashe mostly slept through the morning. Sleep softened his features into something far more peaceful than the troubled expressions that often covered his face these days. Dedue decided not to wake him for breakfast, but he had left some fruits and bread for when the silver-haired boy did regain consciousness. Today, he switched out the cup of daffodils for fresh daisies in a real vase from the cathedral. It was a shame that they hadn’t grown any violets recently, but Dedue intended to remedy that. After all, they hadn’t had the chance to plant the Professor’s requested flowers with all that had happened in the past two days. With the Professor’s consent, Dedue had set aside some of their class’s funding to replant the garden with the aid of pegasus blessings. Even with their magic, the seeds he planted wouldn’t blossom for another week. Dedue brushed some Caledonian soil from his brow, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

* * *

_“Ashe.”_

“Mmm…” Ashe felt a warm touch on the back of his hand. Dedue. “Just a little while longer.”

“It is nearly noon.”

Noon?! How long had he slept? Surely it hadn’t been that long, he had gone to bed early and everything! Perhaps it was the medicine… Ashe whined as the balmy mist of sleep evaporated from his body, but he couldn’t complain too much if it was Dedue he would wake up to. Ashe’s eyes fluttered open, searching for the unfortunately kind-hearted interruptor. 

Dedue had made himself at home, pouring two cups of mint tea from a kettle at Ashe’s desk. Golden light streamed in from the windows, wrapping the Duscur man in a gentle halo. Perhaps he could get used to this. In another world, maybe he had.

“Good morning, Dedue.” Ashe yawned, taking the teacup Dedue passed to him. Steam danced around on the water’s surface. The warmth alone began to soothe his aches. 

“It is hardly still morning.” Dedue took his own teacup in hand. Ashe pouted, finding no clear response to the bright afternoon light. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.” He gazed towards the window. It looked nice outside - perhaps warmer than inside his room. While Dedue had done his best to brighten Ashe’s room, it seemed smaller with each hour he spent cooped up inside. “How is everyone else? They’re setting off for the Kingdom tomorrow, right?” Dedue filled him in on the Professor’s plan, answering Ashe’s questions where he could. Neither of them would be joining the mission, so it served for little more than idle chatter while each finished their tea. 

Ahh. Some fresh air would be nice. Ashe swayed towards the door, threatening to topple over as soon as he rose from the bed. 

Dedue caught Ashe before his legs could give out from underneath him, guiding him towards the desk. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Y-yeah I just - I haven’t been on my feet for a while, that’s all.” Ashe leaned against the desk for support, “But I’d like to get out of this room, you know?”

“I will help you walk, then. Where would you like to go?”

“Hmmm,” Ashe had a lot of places he wanted to go. He wanted to visit the garden, or maybe cook something for himself, and even visit the cathedral at some point. His feelings towards the Goddess had become quite complicated as of late. More than anything, Ashe wanted to rinse the wear from his skin. “Would you take me to the bathhouse? I still smell like the infirmary…”

“There are lots of stairs along the way. Would you prefer I carry you?”

“N-no! I can do it,” In truth, Ashe certainly wouldn’t mind Dedue carrying him once more. The Duscur man could be so motherly at times, always so tender and patient if ever he cut himself in the kitchen - Dedue deserved someone like that for himself. Ashe _certainly_ never pictured himself tending to Dedue’s little scrapes and bruises, or bringing him soup when he caught a cold (not that a man of his constitution ever did), or wiping the dust of battle from his face with a damp silken cloth after a tough mission… Wait, where was he again? But no - he’d never recover if he didn’t force himself to push a little. “I-I’ve got to get used to walking again at some point anyway.” Ashe stammered.

* * *

The walk to the bathhouse was wobbly, and Ashe’s legs burned from exertion by the time they got to the heavy wooden doors. Dedue had the patience of three Goddesses, Ashe swore.

Dedue set a stack of fresh clothes by the folded towels as Ashe began to draw a bath. He tested the water - quite warm, especially against the chill that had set against his skin on the walk over. The bathhouse consisted of two rooms - one for the women, and one for the men. Each room held a number of tubs indented into the stone tile floors, like tiny ponds. 

“I will return in a short while to help you back to your room.”

“Thank you, Dedue.” The Duscur man disappeared, leaving Ashe in solitude. 

Ah. The steam rising from the filling tub lured him closer. The bathhouse was fairly well stocked with all sorts of scented oils and soaps, along with some lotions and pumice stones for the heavier trainers. Some of the noble female students had built up a supply of all varieties of herbal and fragranced soaps, even some expensive liquid kinds to use in your hair to make it soft and shiny - but everyone knew that most of the soaps were part of Lorenz’s hoard. Say what you will about his oddities, the man had good taste in fragrances. Leonie had showed Ashe how to make soap some time ago, and it could all be made for much less than the merchants charged - the trouble was finding nice smelling things to add to the soap, but Dedue always grew the most lovely flowers and herbs. Maybe Ashe could ask him to plant some violets next week. 

Ashe added a few drops of lavender bath oil to the water, summoning sweet-scented beads to the surface. As the tub filled, Ashe began to undress. Each shed bit of clothing bared more of Ashe’s wounds as they fell to the floor. He used to think himself quite pretty - for a boy, at least. Right now, he abhorred what he found in the mirror. The slight, despicable curve of his hips, where he wasn’t as toned as Felix or Sylvain, just slightly too feminine… Maybe that was why...

Ashe looked dreadful. Linen robes stripped away, his wounds were loud, glaring things. The bruises had lightened now, colored in sickly greens, reds, and blues. They covered his skin like patchwork - like he was some worn out doll, finally tossed aside for a new toy. He was ugly and misshapen now. Ruined. Soiled. Ashe could still feel where they had touched him, coating him with their spit and sweat and… Ashe gagged at the thought. 

He sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop him and the frothy bubbles of oil conceal his scars and bruises under the surface. Each wound screamed out at the heat - maybe the water was a little too warm - but least he wouldn’t have to look at them now. He felt dirty. The scent of lavender calmed Ashe as he went through the motions, running the waxy bar across his skin and hair in gentle stripes. The medicinal smell evaporated, lost somewhere in the steam rising from the tub. His own sweat and wear dissolved too. And yet, when Ashe had traced every inch of his skin with soap, when he had rinsed all the grease from his dulled hair, still, he felt dirty.

The filth of _their_ touch lingered on his hips and thighs, as though their hands had fused into the milky skin there, permanently groping him. Their seed had dripped out of him for an eternity, drying in thick puddles as it tainted his battered skin.

And Dedue had _seen_ him like that - thoroughly used and then thoughtlessly discarded like some… some cumrag. Completely defiled after they broke Ashe on his knees in a back alley, rutting into him like some unlucky stray bitch. Bile rose up in his throat. Ashe’s stomach turned and knotted, knowing Dedue would never be able to unsee him so utterly spoilt. He had wanted to be so pure for him, not like…Not like his past, even if he knew Dedue would forgive him for the things he had done then. Ashe wanted to be perfect - like Dedue deserved - if he ever got the courage to speak his feelings aloud. But it was all ruined now. That purity was gone, stolen and shattered. He was ruined now. 

Ashe rose from the now lukewarm tub, pulling himself up to sit on the tiles. He swished his feet around a few times, creating small, soapy torrents. His inner thighs were mostly unmarked, clean of the bruises and scrapes scattered across the rest of his body, as though the thieves had taken caution not to mar them. Still, he could feel their touch so vividly - rough, uncaring hands, sticky with sweat, spreading his legs across the dirt. A mire of filth festered under the surface, churning beneath his skin.

All the lavender soap in the world wouldn’t wash away their touch and the stains they left behind. Ashe hesitantly took one of the pumice stones. They were meant for rubbing away thick, calloused skin. Ashe had used one a few times before, when the wear of archery training began to show under his fingers. 

Cautiously, he ran the stone over the skin of his thighs. It stung, but Ashe persisted. Each pass left searing scratches in its wake, but the skin began to come away. Their touch began to come away. After only a few passes, his thighs were red and raw, but Ashe kept going. If he could just peel the filth away, then he maybe could be clean again.

Oh, Goddess, it was painful. Ashe grated at the tender, blistered skin, sobbing into the bath, dripping salt into the angry skin below. He cried out, but his hands moved without his say so, grinding and grinding away at his broken flesh. Crimson rivulets trickled into the tub, dripping down from pinpricks in his thighs. Roses bloomed across the water’s surface, unraveling as the blood thinned out in the bath.

“Are you alright?” Ashe must have missed Dedue’s heavy footfalls, enraptured in the task at hand. Dedue wouldn’t understand. How could he?

* * *

Muffled, violent sobbing seeped through the wooden bathhouse doors when Dedue returned.

“Are you alright?”

The sobs continued, unbroken by any words. Ashe needed time and privacy, but he sounded quite pained.

“Ashe, I am coming in.”

Dedue hesitated. Intruding on Ashe like this felt wrong, but the prospect of leaving Ashe alone like this also felt wrong. Ashe might hate him for barging in without permission, or Ashe might suffer needlessly, wishing Dedue had barged in. Dedue turned the knob, preparing for the worst.

Stars, **no**.

Dedue hadn’t prepared for the worst, because he hadn’t prepared at all for the sight before him. Ashe perched on the edge of the tub, tearing into his own skin with a pumice stone. Bright, runny blood streamed from the mess of ruined tissue on his thighs, seeping into the water below.

“Ashe,” The usual authority in his voice shattered into desperation, “Stop.”

Ashe persisted, grinding at the skin like a man possessed. It was like he hadn’t even heard Dedue, hadn’t even notice that he entered the room at all, even when the Duscur man neared the tub. He approached cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was fight Ashe, to hurt him even more, yet he found himself recalling brawling maneuvers, running through the best way to subdue an enemy.

Dedue wrenched the stone out of his hand, placing it far out of reach. Ashe moved for it, whimpering, “P-please, you d-don’t understand!” And maybe Dedue didn’t understand. He couldn’t quite explain why his friend had… had mutilated himself like this.

“Forgive me.” Dedue pulled Ashe into his arms, pinning Ashe’s hands at his sides, rendering him motionless in an instant.

“Please, I-I...” Ashe writhed, struggling to escape Dedue’s hold, but the Duscur man was too strong. Physically, Dedue had no trouble restraining Ashe, try as he might to squirm away. It tore at his heart all the same. He wondered if _they_ held him this way - if Ashe was remembering that now at Dedue’s hands. Ashe strained against his hold for a few long, frantic moments, eventually collapsing onto Dedue’s shoulder. He broke down, sobbing wordlessly into the collar of his shirt. Dedue loosened his grip and gingerly pulled Ashe into his lap, taking special care not to let his thighs brush against anything. 

“Breathe.” Dedue combed through wet silver locks, holding Ashe close as he bawled. Ashe clutched at his shirt, trying his best to suck in air. Blood and water mingled together, thinning out as they soaked into Dedue’s trousers.

“I-I… I’m s-sorry.” Ashe choked out, “I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry...”

“It’s alright, Ashe.” Dedue whispered. He grabbed a nearby hand towel and began to blot away the water from Ashe’s hair. “We must get you taken care of.”

“C-can you get Mercedes this time, please.” She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

* * *

Ashe sat on a towel laid atop his bed while Dedue left to procure some tea and give Mercedes space to work her faith magic. He tugged on a loose tunic and some smallclothes, rolled up to let Mercedes examine the bumpy, oozing skin. Ashe had patted it dry a few times, but that had only stained the towels, really.

“Oh no! Ashe, what happened?”

Ashe shook his head, unable to meet her eyes, which always seemed to pierce straight through his own, as if the Goddess herself were seeing him. Mercedes knelt down beside him, focusing her faith on the bloodied skin. 

“It’s alright, Ashe. This will heal over in time. Try not to move, alright?”

He clenched at the blankets as warm sparks of faith magic washed over his thighs. It itched more than it hurt, but the sensation was still unsettling. Ashe gritted his teeth, focused on staying still. Each time Mercedes ran her hands over the raw patches of skin, cuts sealed into silvery white scars. Ashe broke the silence.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise, Ashe. Do you want to talk about it with me?”

Ashe shook his head.

A few more silent moments passed. Mercedes healed as much as she could, but Ashe had dug deep into the skin. Though sparse, a few blistering cuts remained. Faith magic could only speed his natural recovery, and those wounds would take time to fully heal. Suddenly, a frigid gel spread over Ashe’s skin, evoking a violent fit of shivers.

“Sorry!” Mercedes giggled, “I should have warned you it was cold!” 

“I-it’s fine, Mercedes!” Ashe smiled. That laugh of hers could be quite heartwarming, after all. She continued spreading the clear gel along his thighs, wrapping them in bandages when she was satisfied with her work. “Thank you. I’m sorry for the bother.”

“Oh Ashe, you never need to worry about bothering me!” She smiled, “Now, you’ll need to change those bandages and the scar gel every couple of days, and don’t let them get wet, alright?” She set a small glass jar of the clear paste on his desk.

Ashe nodded. 

“Ashe? Something is clearly troubling you very deeply. I know it’s hard, but I want you to talk to someone about this, alright? I’m always happy to lend an ear, but it doesn’t have to be me at all! You could talk to Professor Manuela, or our Professor, or Dedue, or anyone, really!” Mercedes eyes softened, but her singsong voice grew stern, “But If you keep all that trouble bottled up, this is only going to get worse.”

“...Thank you, Mercedes. I’ll um… I’ll think about it.”

“Let me know if you need anything at all, Ashe. I’m here to help!”

* * *

Some time later, Mercedes left Ashe’s room, shutting the door behind her. Dedue waited outside the door, standing guard for Ashe as dutifully as he would for his prince.

“How is he?”

“Dedue?”

“Yes?”

“It’s clear to me that more has happened to our little Ashe than the Professor let on.” When Dedue said nothing, she went on, voice firm, “I’m not asking you to tell me what happened, but please promise me that you’ll let me know if you need my help.”

Dedue nodded.

“Good! Then don’t hesitate to call on me any time! I’ve patched Ashe up for now, but he’ll need his bandages changed every few days, so don’t let him forget.” Mercedes smiled sweetly - too sweetly, “If he needs help, I’m sure he’d be more comfortable with a boy like you changing them.”

“I see,” Dedue spoke slowly, so as not to betray how that last comment flustered him so. He bowed his head, “You have my thanks, Mercedes.”

When she left to continue her studies, Dedue knocked at the door.

“Ashe? I will bring food for dinner. Is there anything you wish to eat?”

“Just more tea, I suppose…” Ashe mumbled through the door, “Thank you, Dedue.”

* * *

Some time later, Dedue returned with food and drink. Mint tea, as ever, and bowls of steamed rice and grilled fish with spices. When Ashe was well again, Dedue would teach him more recipes from his home just like this - simple things his mother would cook when the days grew shorter. Sometimes the magical aroma of her spices alone was enough to melt the weariness from his father’s bones after a long day working the forge. 

Dedue could work no such magic now, but he would still try. He mixed two drops of the medicine into Ashe’s tea before handing the smaller man a steaming porcelain cup. 

“Thank you, Dedue.” Ashe didn’t meet his eyes. “It smells lovely.”

The two sat in silence for some time. Ashe sipped at his tea and slowly pecked at the fish. Another tea might have paired better with the fish - something spiced - but it was a hearty meal nonetheless. Ashe nearly finished his bowl, but Dedue noticed when he stopped eating and idly pushed the rice around with his spoon, as he sometimes would when he was nervous.

“Ashe.”

“Ah,” Ashe nearly dropped his bowl, startled, as though he had forgotten the Duscur man was still in the room, “Um, yes, Dedue?” He set his bowl on the desk beside Dedue’s empty one.

“I will not ask you to speak of what happened earlier,” Dedue spoke carefully, softening his voice as much as he knew how, “But please tell me how to help.”

“I… I don’t know, Dedue,” Ashe’s voice quavered.

“Anything I can do, I will, Ashe.”

“A-anything?”

Dedue nodded. Ashe set his teacup on the desk, emptied of all its healing ichor.

“Would you…” Ashe’s gaze caught in his own hands, “Would you hold me... Just for now?”

The mattress dipped when Dedue sat down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Ashe’s back, taking care not to touch the bruises he knew lie beneath. “Is this alright?” Ashe slid further into his arms, climbing into his lap so he could comfortably rest his head against Dedue’s shoulder as he had in the bathhouse. He hummed a small sound of approval. 

The room was still, save for the dancing flame of the tallow candle. Save for the tiny rise and fall of Ashe’s slender chest, pressing against his own. They sat like that for some time, silent. Dedue decided this silence felt comfortable.

“I felt… Dirty.” Ashe mumbled, barely louder than the flickering candle. “They… They r-ruined me…” 

“You are not dirty or ruined.” Dedue rubbed between Ashe’s shoulder blades, hushing into his silver hair. 

“N-No one will want me now, like this… I’m a…” Ashe trembled, “A whore…”

“You are not a whore.” Dedue lifted the smaller boy's chin upwards, gazing downwards into watery mint eyes, “Anyone with eyes open would see what I see - someone kind, beautiful, and honorable.” He had not meant to speak so freely, but Dedue meant every word.

“D-Dedue…”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” He shouldn’t say much more. He shouldn’t linger on all the words he wished he could say plainly. Ashe deserved to hear how amazing he was, but not just when he couldn’t see it himself, and not from someone like Dedue, who would only cause him more trouble.

“How could anybody want something so weak and broken?!” Ashe cried, “Would _you_, Dedue? Knowing that-”

“Yes.” One word. Dedue hoped he hadn’t said too much. Ashe sank back down into Dedue’s shoulder, quiet for a long moment.

“You are truly too kind, Dedue...” Silver hair tickled at his jaw. It smelled of lavender.

“Rest.” It took all of his willpower to pull away and lower Ashe onto the bed. He curled under the covers. Dedue started towards the door.”

“Um, Dedue?”

“Yes?”

“Would you, ah,” Ashe toyed with a knot in the woolen blankets. “Would you stay here tonight? I, um,” He stammered, speaking a little too quickly, “I have extra blankets and a pillow, but it might be a bit uncomfortable, and I understand if-”

“I will stay if it puts you at ease.” Dedue smiled, small as it may have been.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Dedue left to change into comfortable, unbloodied clothing. When he returned, Ashe had laid out blankets and a pillow on the floor. Both of them had slept in far less comfortable conditions, especially on class missions. Dedue didn’t mind. He blew out the candle and slipped into the makeshift bed.

Ashe grew still soon after the last ember faded. Dedue took his time, letting Ashe’s soft breathing lull him into a peaceful state of twilight. 

Silence for a while, but Dedue couldn’t quite fall asleep. Neither, it seemed, could Ashe. 

Dedue heard Ashe shuffling around above, thinking little of the noises until soft, thin fingers slipped into his palm. The angle was awkward, but Ashe had turned onto his stomach and inched towards the edge of the bed so that his arm hung down, barely long enough to graze at Dedue’s skin.

“I am here, Ashe.” Dedue laced their fingers together, moving their clasped hands to rest on his chest so that Ashe would not have to strain to reach so far down. The pale fingers squeezed around his own.

“I know.”

They drifted off like that, fingers still entwined, hand in hand against whatever dreams may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter today - two for the price of one!
> 
> It took me a while to write this one properly. I didn't expect it to get so long either! Hopefully it was worth the wait :)


	6. Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Deduesday!

Ashe was missing. This was not altogether unreasonable, as he often visited the markets on his days off and lost all sense of time exploring all the new, fantastical things traders would bring to Garreg Mach. With the Professor’s help clearing trade routes, foreign merchants had returned to the town, bringing all manners of goods to the monastery. When he returned, he always had a new treasure in tow - usually books, but sometimes exotic spices or unique seeds for the garden. Even with the monastery’s stipend, Ashe never would have been able to afford half his purchases if he hadn't been so skilled at haggling. Ashe had an adorable charm about him, so of course it was no surprise to Dedue that a few well placed words of his could make even the most rigid merchants cave. 

When Dedue reached the markets, however, he couldn’t spot that silver bob of hair anywhere. Well, the markets were perhaps rather busy. The air grew thick with sounds of the forge, of animals braying and the smell of street food sizzling on scattered braziers. The markets had a song all their own. Dedue might have enjoyed it if not for the singers. 

The faceless, nameless merchants gawked and scowled at him when he hovered too close to the stands. Dedue hated that about the markets; he hated that his mere presence evoked such an immediate aura of suspicion. That, despite being dressed in fine Garreg Mach robes, they thought him some common scoundrel ready to pocket their wares if they turned from him for a second. Monstrous, barbaric Duscur strength apparently paired with conniving stealth and catlike reflexes. Incredible, really. The leaps they would make in order to justify their baseless prejudice. Usually Ashe was by his side, tugging him through the market hand in hand.

_'Doesn't it make you angry?!' Ashe squeezed his hand, 'They have no right to judge you like this - to assume they know you!'_

_'If they are fools, they cannot know better. I do not blame them for this.'_

_'We'll change that one day.' The glare on Ashe's face softened into something far more tender, 'I know it.'_

Cold iron and burning coal assaulted his senses. The markets were deserted. When had they emptied so quickly? When had the sun lowered in the sky, glazing the cobblestones such an ominous red?

"D-Dedue? Where are you?" a weak, wavering voice called.

_Ashe._

He was scared. He was in pain. He was here, somewhere. Dedue just had to find him. Dedue just had to find him and bring him back to the monastery, and everything would be alright. 

"Ashe?" Dedue called out, sweeping the alleyways for any sign of the silver-haired boy. Choked sobbing bounced off of the stone walls, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.

"Why did you l-leave me?"

Dedue hurried through the winding streets. They seemed to twist and loop, muddling his sense of direction as he searched for Ashe's voice. He was close, just around the corner, perhaps. When Dedue finally found him, he froze, paralyzed at the mouth of the alleyway.

"P-please," Ashe whimpered, only ten yards away, "Don't…"

Six murky, disembodied hands violated Ashe. One yanked at his hair, forcing him up into a painful arch. Another coiled around his neck, teasingly gentle as it stroked his jaw, so sickeningly possessive. Two groped at his waist, sinking crescent welts into the skin of his abdomen. The last two hands raked into his thighs, clawing deep, crimson gouges into the flesh. Thick, scarlet blood oozed and dribbled from the lacerations, flowing into the cobblestone, and pooling, endlessly pooling around his bruised knees.

“N-No, plea-” that vile hand around Ashe’s throat tightened, crushing his whimpering pleas. Ashe gasped for air, pulling and scratching at the hands. They wouldn’t budge. They wouldn’t even flinch. His face reddened, starved for oxygen and dripping with tears, and all Ashe could do was soundlessly pray to the Goddess for mercy, for a savior. And when he prayed, it was Dedue’s name on his lips.

Barring magic, a human can only stay conscious for a matter of moments without oxygen. A proper choke hold should incapacitate its target in seconds, per Professor Byleth’s teachings, but even a sloppy choke will quickly suffocate its victim. But Ashe stayed conscious, endlessly clawing at that hand, mouthing Dedue’s name over and over. It was then that Dedue realized he was in hell.

He ran towards Ashe. Blood washed over his boots in shallow waves, soon flooding up to his knees. Strong tides pushed him away from Ashe, but Dedue wouldn’t relent. He waded towards the silver-haired boy, yet he only seemed to grow farther away, sucked backwards into the lightless alley. It was hopeless, but he would not _relent_. He fought against the currents, pushing and pushing against the wear of his delusions.

“Ashe!”

It was hopeless, right? Or so he thought, before the sanguine waves parted before him, and Dedue bolted before he could even think of thinking. Some mercy from the gods, his or Ashe’s, it hardly mattered. Nothing mattered but him. He raced towards Ashe, quickly closing the distance until he crashed against something. The impact sent him to the ground, head throbbing.

Dedue stumbled to his feet, panicked, looking for a way around… nothing? Nothing but air filled the three feet between him and Ashe, and yet when he reached out, he hit a wall. An impassable, unseeable wall that halted him in his tracks. He had to find another way, there must be another way. When Dedue turned around, the stone alleyway had closed in, leaving only brick wall. He was so close. Dedue was so close to him.

“Ashe! Can you hear me?”

The hands continued to tug and scrape at him, and he continued to beg for air, and to beg for Dedue. He was _here_, gods damn it all. Here, and so utterly helpless to do anything but watch as they _profaned_ him. And it seemed that Ashe couldn’t see him - couldn’t hear him either. His eyes, already glassy with tears, stared straight past Dedue.

“Ashe!” Dedue banged against the wall.

_‘Please… Dedue...’_

He was helpless.

* * *

“Dedue!”

Ashe knelt over him, sheaves of pale light casting his speckled ivory skin in a soft glow. Stars above, Ashe looked beautiful in the moonlight. Beautiful and alive, unpained. Safe. Sleepy, mint-colored eyes saw deep into his own, and for all the world, Dedue could not shake the feeling that he gazed up at a moon nymph, straight from Duscur legend.

The sheer _whiplash_ dazed every one of his senses. Dedue struggled to form a single coherent thought. Ashe tugged him back to reality.

“Are you alright?” Ashe squeezed his fingers. Dedue realized the tightness of his own crushing grasp. Perhaps that had woken Ashe. Well done.

“Ah, my apologies,” Dedue rubbed the sleep from his eyes, releasing his hand, “An unsettling dream, that is all.”

“Yeah… It seemed pretty bad…” Ashe helped him sit up against the bed. A steady silence bloomed between them. Dedue wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep so quickly, and Ashe, well, it seemed Ashe wouldn’t let him weather the night alone. Ashe lit the candle and poured each of them some tea, cold and bitterly oversteeped from the night before. Dedue didn’t mind. The comfort was more symbolic, he supposed. Ashe sat down beside him, staring at the stray leaves in his cup.

“Was it about Duscur?”

“No.” Should he elaborate? Should Dedue tell him how the thought of Ashe in danger had shaken him to his core? How despite Ashe’s easy forgiveness, he still blamed himself for every suffocating second Ashe had suffered - that Dedue had _allowed_ him to suffer in his absence? 

“I can’t fully recall. My apologies for waking you.” Dedue hadn’t suffered at their hands, he hardly had the right to hurt like this - to fear like this. Ashe needed his comfort now, not his fear. His strength, not his weakness.

“No! It’s not a bother at all, Dedue, truly. Please…” Ashe turned his full body towards the Duscur man. “You’ve helped me so much these past few days, and you’ve been here for me. Even when… Even when I hardly deserved your patience. I’m here for you too, Dedue. If you need to talk or anything… Anything at all, you know?”

Dedue nodded. He felt a pang of guilt at keeping Ashe awake, but he could hardly fall back asleep in this state. 

"Say, Dedue, I know what would help!" The older man cocked an eyebrow, "Are you hungry?"

* * *

The walk to the dining hall was short, but more brisk than Ashe would have liked. As the end of Verdant Rain Moon drew near, autumn chills began to bite at the monastery air. He wished he’d had the forethought to bring a cloak, if only a light one. Alas, he had been too excited to whisk Dedue away to the kitchens. 

The kitchens had been left clean, luckily for them. On several occasions, the two of them had started their cooking shifts cleaning up someone else’s mess. Of course, it was still the dead of night, after all. The ovens would need a fresh fire before he could cook anything, at the very least.

“What will we be cooking tonight?”

“It’s a secret!”

“I can hardly help if I do not know what you wish to make.”

Ashe pouted, “You can get the ovens going, and then I’ll just tell you what to do, so it doesn’t ruin the surprise!” He took Dedue’s hands in his own, “I’m taking care of you, remember?” Dedue nodded, the slightest hint of color gracing his features. Ashe supposed he might be a little embarrassed that Ashe himself was finally the one doing the mothering, not that he should be! 

Ashe set about gathering ingredients for his secret creation - butter, flour, sugar, salt, apples, cinnamon, and some apricot preserves Dedue helped him make earlier in the month. All classic ingredients for a classic apple tart, like his father used to make when they could afford to celebrate an occasion, but this time, he planned to add a few of Dedue’s spices to the filling, too. It would be a nice surprise, and after all, they were celebrating. Ashe wanted Dedue to feel all nice and cozy like at home, but he hadn’t really mastered Duscur cuisine… So he would make him something from his own home instead!

Dedue went about starting a fire beneath the ovens, piling enough logs on to drive away the chill for now. While he was properly distracted, Ashe started on a spiced brown butter sauce for the delicious, apple-y filling. Typically he would ask Dedue to taste it a few times while he blended in the various spices, but that would ruin the surprise! Melting a luxurious amount of butter in one of their saucepans, he scraped in a bit of vanilla bean, added a tiny fistful of cloves, then a few pieces of star anise, and topped it off with a single stick of cinnamon. It smelled heavenly. Perfect!

It would take time for the flavors to develop - time and love. While the flavors began to blend together, Ashe started on the tart crust - flour, sugar, salt, butter, and eggs. Doughs could always be tricky. After his parents passed away, he rarely had the luxury of butter, so Ashe had learned to make most of his doughs with oil instead, or in tougher times, water and flour alone. Dedue could probably find a way to make even that taste delicious, though.

Dedue turned away from the fire, wiping small beads of sweat from his brow.

Goddess. Ashe hadn’t truly taken him in yet.

And yet, here he stood, looking like something out of Ashe’s sweetest, most fantastically domestic dreams, where Dedue would leave his prince behind and live out in the country with Ashe instead. The firelight danced along his skin. He glowed - no, he absolutely _blazed_ with that effortless grace. Dedue had rolled his plain cotton tunic up to his elbows, exposing his distractingly toned forearms. The tunic’s corded leather slipped looser than usual, far lower than his uniform jacket would ever allow, baring his collarbones. And his hair, Goddess, his hair, still mussed from sleep, allowing thin strands to slip away from the tie he meticulously kept. Ashe had never seen it down before, and boy, he would have _remembered_ if he had.

“Ashe?” Eek! He had probably been staring (again). Well, he had certainly been staring, only Dedue had probably noticed this time.

“O-Oh, sorry, I got um, wrapped up in the recipe, that’s all!” A flimsy excuse, sure, but it was all he had.

“I see.” Dedue joined him at the table, “May I be of assistance?”

Ashe allowed him to chop some apples into thick wedges as he worked at the dough. Dedue might not know exactly what went into the mix, but he could probably guess if Ashe let him get a good look. Once he was finished combining it, he set it aside to rest somewhere out of Dedue’s sight. Dedue sliced apples, Ashe tended his spiced sauce, basking in the comfortable warmth emanating from the ovens. He always felt so cozy in moments like these. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend this was his whole life - cooking with Dedue, always perfectly in sync, drifting off in their own peaceful minds, and yet wholly present beside each other all the same. The silence was comfortable, practiced even, but Ashe could tell that Dedue was holding something back.

Soon enough, the dough, apples, and glaze were all ready, and Ashe shooed Dedue away so he could fill and fold his tart in pure secrecy. He took his time lining up each little crease, folding the crust down and around the filling into a simple, ruffled pattern. Ashe wanted it to be absolutely perfect; he wanted Dedue to feel, really truly understand how much love he wished to pour into it. Love for his kindhearted words, love for his bottomless patience, and love for each and every one of his gentle, consoling touches, always steeped in such caution. Ashe hadn’t said or done enough to thank him for it all, and he wasn’t sure if he ever could. But that was just Dedue, wasn’t it. He held Ashe close because he was truly that kind, not because he expected thanks or anything else in return. Dedue deserved the world. He shouldn’t settle for anything less. Ashe wished he could see that.

“Okay, all ready! Now we just need to bake it!” Ashe laid the tart out onto a baking sheet. He couldn’t help but recall the night they had spent here not so long ago, nestled into each other so perfectly while his pies baked. Maybe they could do that again…

“Ouch!,” Ashe squeaked and pulled his hands away from the oven rack. His thoughts had drifted a little too far from the kitchen as he slid the tart into the oven. A few of his fingertips throbbed with dull pain. After making sure the tart was properly pushed in, Ashe ran some cool water over his fingers.

“Are you alright?” Dedue leaned over his shoulder, already prepared with a small burn salve they kept in the kitchen. Mostly for Ashe’s sake, of course. Dedue was never clumsy enough to get burned.

“Just a little burn, that’s all.” Ashe pulled his fingers out from the water, letting Dedue pat them dry and spread a little smudge of the paste over each reddened patch of skin. Of course, Ashe could have done this himself, but Dedue always insisted. Ashe hurting, Dedue mothering, Ashe insisting on mothering Dedue even if he didn’t need any of said mothering - this was all second nature to them now. A dance of sorts. Ashe sighed, content to let the Duscur man rub gentle little circles into his fingertips.

The sky had begun to lighten somewhat, though plenty of stars still speckled the horizon. Certainly past midnight, then. Good. 

“How are you feeling, Dedue?”

“I should be asking you that question.” Dedue said, in a tone that could very nearly be described as teasing. Ashe’s heart fluttered in its tiny confines.

“It’s just a tiny burn! I’m sure you’ve gotten plenty of little burns like these!”

“Never.” Dedue _was_ teasing! Ashe pouted, biting back a yawn. They had been cooking for some time now, though they had the whole day to sleep in if they wanted - the rest of the class would be out on a mission.

“Are you sleepy? It’s almost morning,” Ashe chewed at his lip, “I kept you up pretty late, huh.”

“I will make up for the sleep later. You are welcome to rest if you like.” Ashe flushed, vividly remembering their last encounter on this bench. Dedue, combing through the hair of a sleepy Ashe shamelessly listing into Dedue’s every touch. The proximity sapped at Ashe’s impulse control. He had come dangerously close to damning it all and pressing his lips to that strong, statuesque jawline... The pie saved him then, but he didn’t want to burn this tart. Still, the offer was too good to refuse. He leaned closer to Dedue.

“May I, um…”

“Always.” Dedue draped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Ashe rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder.

“You’re a wonderful pillow, Dedue.” Ashe sighed. 

The sleepiness had snuck up on him, too powerful to resist now that he had permission to lie on his favorite napping perch. Ashe savored every precious second in Dedue's warm embrace until he tore away to check that the tart had finished. It smelled wonderful, and it looked nice enough, though he was sure Dedue would have folded it even more delicately. Ashe lifted the crust to be sure it had cooked through at the bottom, pleased when it easily slid away from the pan. He poured the small bit of his reserved sauce over the top, coating the baked apples in even more buttery, spiced warmth. Perfect!

“Alright, close your eyes, I’m coming over!”

Ashe lit a tallow candle by the fire.

* * *

“Alright, close your eyes, I’m coming over!”

Dedue obeyed. Whatever Ashe had cooked smelled wonderful, though he’d prefer to taste it, of course. He could pick up on hints of cinnamon, and he had seen enough to know that Ashe used apples - a classic pairing, of course. The dough was for a pastry of some kind, as far as he could tell. In a way, he preferred to leave it a mystery, seeing as Ashe had been so proud of keeping it secret. He heard the smaller boy shuffling around in the kitchen. Silverware clinked around, then a plate landing on the table. Some footsteps.

Delicate little fingers slipped into his own, tugging for him to stand and follow. Dedue complied.

“You can open your eyes now, Dedue.”

On the table sat a delicately folded apple tart, simple enough in appearances. Yet, as Dedue approached the plate, he picked up on subtle spices - cloves, anise, flavors Dedue had often used in his own cooking, albeit often for more savoury curries. A small tallow candle flickered beside the tart, though the room was bright enough from the oven’s flame.

"I know it's not much, but…" Ashe wrapped his arms around Dedue’s chest, rolling up on his tiptoes in a futile attempt to close the gap in their mismatched embrace.

“Ashe…”

“Happy birthday, Dedue.”

Ah. It was his birthday, wasn’t it? Dedue had only mentioned it offhandedly, hardly thinking much of his curiosity when Ashe had asked if birthdays were celebrated differently in Duscur. He hadn’t made a habit of celebrating it in the past, and the past couple of days had taken his mind far, far away from thoughts of any celebration. Yet despite everything, Ashe had remembered. Ashe cared enough to remember. Of course, Ashe was a naturally kind person - he would take the time to do things like this for _any_ of his friends, showing them in so many ways exactly how much he really did care. If nothing more, Dedue was grateful Ashe counted him among those friends. 

“Thank you, Ashe.”

“You’ll share, right?” he peeked up from Dedue’s chest.

Ashe was here with him, beautiful and safe, wrapped up in Dedue’s arms where he could shield him from all the world’s evil. Dedue never wanted to let go. He never would, if Ashe let him.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should get a beta reader at some point, maybe for my next fic. I should also stop writing chapters this long! But I can't help it, they're too cute, and I put them through too much not to give them the fluff they deserve.


	7. Rain

It would have been easy enough to fall asleep in the kitchen, to drift off in Dedue’s strong arms with the taste of apple and cloves still light on their tongues. Of course, Dedue would carry him back to his own bed, and maybe even tuck him in. Ashe wouldn’t wake again until Dedue roused him from his peaceful slumber, as he always did these mornings. His tender hands would still glow with the heat of the teapot he brought with him. He would lean in ever so close, near enough that Ashe could breathe in those intoxicating spices. If the door creaking open didn’t wake Ashe, then he would sit by the bed, whispering a soft good morning. If those sweet words didn’t wake him, then Dedue would trace a thin line down his shoulder, or carefully take Ashe’s wrist in his hands, and Ashe would know it was Dedue he would wake up to.

Perhaps he should just keep sleeping then, stirring only for his true love’s kiss. Silly, really. Dedue probably hadn’t a clue how Ashe felt - he would never solve the fairytale curse without that critical piece of the puzzle! Dedue would never steal a kiss from Ashe without permission anyway. He was far too chivalrous for that, a regular knight in shining armor, really... Of course, to give Dedue permission, Ashe would have to break his false, magically-induced coma, and then that wouldn’t work at all! Ugh. Still… It was worth fantasizing about.

None of that happened, of course. Not the spell-breaking kiss, nor the warm hands on his shoulder, nor the aura of spices, nor being tucked in, nor even drifting off in his taciturn guardian’s arms. None of that ever got the faintest _chance_ to happen, because the bloody Knights of Seiros started their morning drills just before dawn. Ashe could nearly blaspheme the Goddess for that. For that, for Lonato, for the markets, for everything this world would take without giving anything in return.

“Guess it’s really morning...” Ashe sighed, nestling into Dedue’s shoulder. If he could block out the thin beams of sunlight threatening their sanctuary, maybe this would last just a little while longer before Dedue pulled away, starting about his duties for the day. Even if Ashe wanted more, he could settle for just this peaceful moment.

Ashe knew how to make do.

* * *

The rest of the day went smoothly enough. Dedue insisted that Ashe catch up on his sleep. He'd had offered to help out with the list of chores the Professor assigned while the rest of their house was off on the mission, but Dedue wouldn't have it. Ashe’s company was always quite welcome, yet Dedue still felt a tad guilty for waking him the other night.

Yet, holding Ashe in the kitchen again… Dedue couldn’t deny how Ashe’s sleepy smiles lifted all the weight from his heart. How his silvery little laughs quieted all his worrying thoughts, and how the lightest touch calmed Dedue’s panic of losing him again in those winding alleyways. It would be selfish to ask Ashe to never let go of him, to never leave his side again. Selfish, and foolish as well. Dedue’s fate ultimately rested with his prince. If, even knowing that, Ashe did stay by his side, it would only put him in undue danger. Ashe was a capable fighter, of course. He proved as much on their missions, and he may well rise to knighthood through his own efforts. If he swore his bow to the Kingdom, Dedue could do little to shield him from the battles to come. Ashe knew the risks. Still, if they fought side by side as they did on their house missions, Dedue at least had the chance to block any errant blows that might come his way.

Despite Ashe’s initial protests, the medicinal tea rapidly leeched his energy. He fell asleep before Dedue even left the room. Not, however, before making him promise that he would wake Ashe later to go fishing. Ashe clung to him so easily these days. He lingered in the Duscur man’s arms as though it were Dedue’s own self that took away the pain and not Manuela’s medicine. As though Dedue was his gentle, glowing hearth, burning steadfast and warm in the iciest winter Fodlan could muster. Dedue cherished every moment - every single second - that Ashe willed him so close. 

It was simple enough. Ashe was drowning, and Dedue had been the closest raft. Not for the first time, Dedue reminded himself that Ashe would have reacted the same to anyone else who was there to lift him from the dirt and nurse him back to health. They had been close enough friends already, it was natural. It was more natural than the way Dedue wanted Ashe, at least. More easily explained away as a trick of the heart. If he could grow so bold, he hoped that when this was all over, when Ashe was healed, he would still want someone like Dedue at his side. When Ashe was well again, and fully in his right mind, then and _only_ then would Dedue let himself dream of Ashe wanting him the same way in earnest. Until then, Dedue would be careful. Dedue would let Ashe take his time, treading water. Dedue would savor every touch until then, and go no further. 

Dedue knew not to take advantage.

* * *

The rest of the day went smoothly enough. Dedue spent his time polishing and sanding down training weapons, restocking the communal kitchens, and clearing out the infirmary for the inevitable injuries each mission brought home. The monastery was uncharacteristically quiet. Each house had its own mission to attend to, so most students were out and about. Only the knights and some monastery staff remained on days like these. In a way, it was quite peaceful, but Dedue couldn’t help but worry about the rest of their class. Especially Dimitri. The prince crossed his thoughts only rarely these days, which was shamefully improper given his oath of servitude. Lately, Dedue had given himself entirely to Ashe. Even if His Highness had willed it, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too quick to accept the arrangement.

As promised, Dedue returned to Ashe’s room for lunch. While he stocked the kitchens, he prepared a simple meal for the two of them - rice with curried chicken and a soup with traditional Duscur spices. Many years ago, his mother used to prepare this very same soup for him and his sister whenever they fell ill. Of course, the monastery kitchen lacked many traditional Duscur ingredients. Instead of coconut milk, he used cream. Instead of the spiced oils, he settled for dried pepper flakes. It wasn’t much, but it would be warm and fresh against the nearing autumn chill. 

Reserves of mint tea had dwindled, but the Professor would be back soon enough, likely with a few bullion worth of gold to spend on whatever munitions the house decided to stock for the month. Tea could be a munition, or perhaps at least considered a medicine of some sort. Dedue was surprised to find Ashe awake when he finally nudged his way through the door, hands full with his bounty from the dining hall.

“Dedue! You’re back!”

“I did promise.” He set the platter on the desk and went about methodically splitting the pots of soup and chicken into separate servings.

“Let me help.” Ashe rose from the bed, pouring tea into two teacups. A twice-daily ritual now. “What kind of tea is this?”

“We ran out of mint.” Dedue apologized.

“That’s alright, it’s nice to try new things once in a while.”

Sage advice. Dedue nodded. “Try some. Tell me what you taste.” Ashe took a sip.

“Hmmm…” A tiny sliver of pink tongue peeked out from his lips when he concentrated. Dedue found it quite cute, though Ashe being cute was a given. Indeed, Dedue had reached that conclusion quite some time ago. “Sort of like lemon? But it’s not as, um… lemony?”

“Close.” Dedue handed him two bowls - one for the soup, another for the chicken. “It is made with a spice called lemongrass.” 

“Lemon...grass?”

“A Duscur plant. It is difficult to grow farther north, but the plants are hardy. It is much easier to grow in the greenhouse. There is some in the soup, too.” Dedue gestured towards the pot he had poured from earlier, “Be advised that it is somewhat spicy. The spice helps with sickness in colder moons.”

“Oh wow! I can taste it!” Ashe beamed, “You’ll have to show me how to make this, Dedue. Then if you get sick, I can make it for you!” 

That wouldn’t be so bad. Quite nice, actually. Ashe could care for him all he liked. Dedue imagined the silver-haired boy peering down at him from the desk Dedue usually inhabited these days. Ashe would insist that he stay in bed and rest while he took care of everything. Dedue would never let him; he’d always find a way to help ease Ashe’s burdens, even while sick or dying. Still, he reveled in those proud, shining smiles Ashe would wear whenever he got to coddle Dedue so. Perhaps he would have to get sick, then. 

“As you wish.”

* * *

After lunch, Ashe tagged along to the pond while Dedue fished for their meals for the next few days. Usually, the Professor caught most of what they ate at the monastery, but given their absence on the mission, Dedue offered to pick up in their stead.

Bubbles rose from the pond, revealing the paths of fish hidden by the murky waters. Ashe studied how the glassy surface broke each time Dedue cast his line out or drew it back in. Whenever he reeled in a fish, pond water crested towards the dock, tickling the toes of Ashe’s boots. Neither of them felt the need to talk now, so they didn’t. Ashe relaxed into the silence, no longer feeling the need to constantly gauge Dedue’s reactions. 

The worry from the kitchen washed away from Dedue’s features long ago. There were still words left unsaid. Ashe suspected those words would probably remain unsaid for moons to come. If Ashe never pressed him on it, maybe they would never see the light of day. Dedue was a man of few words, and he kept the most important ones tucked up close to his heart. Ashe was still curious, of course, but he thought it best to let the Duscur man open up in his own time. One day, he’d tear those walls down. Until then, Ashe would wait. Ashe could be patient. He’d just pretend Dedue was cooking him a stew, and it wouldn’t be nearly as tasty if he didn’t let it simmer to perfection.

Of course, Ashe thought Dedue was already perfect. He-

Ashe shivered as a fat drop of cold water landed against his nose.

“Did you feel that?” Ugh, grey skies. He hadn’t even noticed the storm clouds rolling in. White sunlight still peeked through the wispier bits of sky, pretending it was still clear and bright out. Dedue stared up at them, disapproving.

Raindrops pattered against the pond’s surface. They could barely manage to duck under the fishing stand before the sky opened up. Rain poured down in heavy curtains, sweeping across the courtyard. Even if they ducked through the dining hall, their rooms were quite far, and the ledges of the dormitories offered little protection.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to run for it!”

“I do not think running will keep you dry.” Dedue was right; it was coming down in buckets. And not small ones, either, but the huge buckets Ingrid and Sylvain used to fill the troughs at the stable. 

“But I might get _less_ wet!” He took Dedue’s hand, fish all but forgotten in their urgency, “Besides, we can’t exactly stay here, can we?” Dedue grunted something. A complaint, a concession, maybe. It mattered little because soon enough, Ashe was pulling him back into the showers in a mad dash for their rooms. 

The rain wasn’t as cold as it felt before. Though perhaps it was Dedue’s steady grip that kept him so warm. Ashe collapsed as they got to their side by side rooms. He ducked into his own doorway, letting out some sound halfway between a pant and a laugh. The look on Dedue’s face when he pulled him away from the roof! Surprise, bewilderment, maybe a hint of _‘somebody get this crazy archer away from me’_. His eyes were happy. Even if his mouth drew into a firm line as he shed his dripping uniform coat, Ashe noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners. In Dedue’s language, that was a full-blown smile. Of course, Ashe would always aim for a real one.

Dedue was utterly drenched. Ashe was probably the same, but he couldn’t see himself, so it didn’t count for as much. Oh, Dedue… When he shucked away the top layer of his uniform, it was clear that the dark fabric had offered scarce little protection from the elements. Rain pierced through to his cream-colored tunic below, soaking it wet enough that it very nearly melted away. The linen clung to his chest, accentuating every bulge and crease of the Duscur man’s muscles, all the way from his collarbone to the deeply carved lines where his abdomen met his hips. It was enough to make Ashe feel faint!

“Ah,” Ashe clutched at his stomach, wincing as a sharp pain reminded him of his bruises. He probably felt faint for other reasons. Perhaps it was a little silly to sprint away like that, but in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about his wounds since the kitchen. Ashe looked out at the monastery. The last rain of the moon, wild and sudden and still so bright as the sun glared past the clouds. When the sky cleared, perhaps they would see a rainbow if the sun hadn’t set before then.

"Are you in pain?" Dedue opened the door to Ashe’s room.

"A little, yeah." They slipped inside before too much of the rain could follow, “But nothing like before. The tea helps. I am healing, Dedue, I just wish it went a little faster.”

The Duscur man nodded. “All wounds need time to heal. I will heat some tea for your medicine.” He took a jar from Ashe’s desk, “Change your clothes and bandages while I am gone. I will knock.”

"O-okay" Ashe nodded. Dedue left, shielding himself and the teapot only with his already drenched jacket. Ashe stripped his own soggy clothes away and set to patting himself dry with a small towel. He slipped into loose linen sleepwear, rolling the pant legs up to his bandaged thighs.

The cotton gauze was absolutely soaked from the storm. If he didn’t change them, Mercedes would surely lecture him in that sweet, yet chillingly stern tone of hers. Of course, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of himself. Ashe didn’t want to hurt even more, but... At the same time, he didn't want to see what was underneath. He didn't want to see the deep, pitted scars and remember what he had done to himself. What Dedue had to see him do to himself, too. Still, he had to, or the pain would just get worse.

He took a deep breath. This was simple enough. All Ashe had to do was untie the bandages, dry it off, and then put some more of the cream on before he bandaged it again. It was simple. He did want them to heal, after all. What would people think if one day someone saw such scars _there_? They hardly could have come from a riding incident, rough as wyvern scales can be. No, these were far too vertical, far too deep for run of the mill chafing. Ashe stared down at the sopping cotton. He couldn’t bring himself to look underneath.

"Ashe?" Dedue knocked, just as he promised. He returned sooner than expected, or perhaps Ashe had simply lost track of the time ticking by. As always, Ashe let him in. Dedue had changed out of his rain-soaked clothes, though the steps between their rooms still wetted a few patches on his shoulders. Lemony steam billowed from the teapot.

“Ah, I’m sorry Dedue…I couldn’t...” The words didn’t come easily. Even when Dedue knelt beside him, barely shorter than his seated form, he couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don't want to look at it…"

"Would you like me to help?” Dedue brushed a few locks of his silver hair aside. He was stern, unyielding as the mountains cradling the monastery. Unshakable, unflinching even when Ashe asked the world of him and more. Impossibly firm and gentle all at once while he tended to everything Ashe himself was too… too _useless_ to take care of! 

"I'm sorry,” Ashe buried his face in his hands, muffling a cheerless laugh, “I can't seem to do anything myself these days..."

"Ashe." A warm hand slipped in between his own, pulling away his shield. Those piercing turquoise eyes gazed into his own. “It is enough that you are here. Please do not push yourself. I will take care of you for as long as you wish."

One day, Ashe would earn the kindness Dedue so freely gave.

"Lay back. You may close your eyes if it helps." Ashe leaned back against the pillows and raised an arm over his eyes. The mattress dipped under Dedue’s weight. In its own way, it comforted Ashe unlike anything else - knowing that he was there, knowing exactly where he was. Exactly how close he was, in case he needed him.

"Please tell me to stop if..." Dedue didn't finish. He didn't have to. Ashe nodded blindly. He grabbed at the sheets, twisting the slack between his fingers when Dedue first brushed against his skin. This was fine, this was normal, nothing to worry about. Ashe focused on the scent of lemongrass. Every touch between legs felt foreign but gentle. Respectful, maybe even a little shy. Just like Dedue, wasn’t it? He wasn’t anything like those men, so of course, he wouldn’t feel like it either. That set him at ease. Even blind, those hands were so obviously Dedue’s. Ashe sighed. He almost felt a little ashamed of being so nervous, but Dedue understood. He always did.

Dedue untucked the bandages first, carefully unwinding the gauzy linen around his legs. The inner layers stuck to his skin, catching on cuts where spots of blood oozed out. If he’d tried to remove them himself, Ashe probably would have ripped away the clinging fabric and made it all worse. Dedue was patient, tenderly toweling the dried blood away so the bandages wouldn’t tear at his skin when he finally stripped them off. The cotton peeled away easily, surely exposing a mangled mess of angry scar tissue. 

If it unsettled Dedue, Ashe couldn’t tell. He patted the skin dry, then pulled away for a moment. Metal on glass. A small ‘thunk’ as Dedue set the jar back down. Then, skin on skin, separated only by the icy gel. Dedue’s hands grazed over the bumps and wells in his thighs. Goddess.

Ashe could feel every single line carved into Dedue’s palm as he smoothed the paste over his reddened skin. Try as he might to suppress the shivers, it was all so very _overwhelming_. So many nights he spent dreaming of those hands, touching him _there_, just like _that_. Sometimes more, but often just this quiet, intimate bliss. Carefully, gently kissing him with sun-weathered palms, as though Ashe were his most prized, delicate little blossom.

It felt perfectly divine, despite the situation, and despite how he always imagined Dedue’s hands to be much warmer. Despite the fact that Dedue was seeing those ugly, jagged craters that nauseated Ashe to even imagine. He bit back a whine when those blessed hands pulled away once more.

"Are you in pain?" Worry weighed heavy in Dedue’s voice. Of course he would worry.

"N-No! Just cold." Ashe let out a breath he forgot he had been holding. Heat rose to his cheeks, coloring them noticeably red against his pale, dappled skin. Ashe cursed his weak complexion and the way it bared his secrets, even if Mercedes told him she found it terribly cute. “Keep going, Dedue.”

‘Anything’, Dedue had said. Anything Ashe needed, anything that would help. Could he truly ask Dedue for this? For him to keep rubbing circles into his skin until the scars, and the pain, and the nightmares all faded away forever?

* * *

Dedue drank in the sight of him. Stars, he committed it to his memory, engraving each and every inch of Ashe into his mind. Ashe, flushed and trembling beneath his hands, lips parted ever so slightly. Ashe, clutching at the sheets and shivering with every slow drag of his palm. It was the sheer contact, and how embarrassing Ashe might find it, not Dedue himself. It was the frigid cream and the fact that Ashe had always been ticklish, not Dedue.

“Keep going, Dedue.” Ashe tried his damndest to keep his voice from cracking, but Dedue saw how thickly he swallowed, burrowing into his elbow to avoid looking anywhere near the Duscur man. Dedue heard how his breathing became shallow and erratic. He couldn’t help but imagine how Ashe would quiver and gasp when he drew his lips over those scars, pausing to kiss each and every one as many times as the silver-haired boy would let him.

Oh.

_Oh._

This was wrong. This was _certainly_ taking advantage. 

Dedue quashed those errant thoughts as best he could. He wouldn’t trick Ashe into thinking Dedue was his salvation, he wouldn’t encourage any dependency, no matter how blessedly affectionate. He wouldn’t make it harder for Ashe to pull away when he regained his senses. Dedue didn’t want to hurt him.

“Your wounds are healing well.” He murmured, “I will give my thanks to Mercedes.” 

He smoothed the last little bits of scar cream into Ashe’s wounds, using every fibre of the self-discipline he had trained not to let those shameful hands linger where they didn’t belong. Ashe permitted Dedue to heal him, to change his bandages and nothing more. Dedue wouldn’t take anything more.

“Is this too tight?” Dedue wrapped his thighs with fresh cotton bandages.

“No… It’s perfect.” Ashe rolled onto his side. Those sparkling green orbs gazed up at him, “Thank you, Dedue.” Another wave of guilt tore through his stomach. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow was the first day of the week, classes may pick up again, however Professor Byleth typically allowed them some reprieve after missions. Still, the others would be returning, no doubt with some news of Miklan and their next mission. The Blue Lions may have suffered casualties, however powerful the Sword of the Creator was proclaimed to be. Dedue would deal with the uncertainty of tomorrow, tomorrow. He would visit Ashe as soon as he was able.

* * *

A few days passed. The monastery welcomed in Horsebow Moon. Autumn harvests burst across the land, bringing all manners of seasonal fruits and vegetables to the table. Students settled back into classes after returning from their missions, and though Miklan’s fate had clearly shaken the Blue Lions class, each passing day encouraged a few steps towards normalcy. 

Peace, even. Dedue visited Ashe for tea twice a day; Ashe ventured out of his room for lunch and human contact. Annette caught him up with his studies, Mercedes checked his wounds and gave him a cryptic lecture about… self-confidence, maybe? He trained with Felix once or twice. More accurately, he used the training grounds to retrain his rusty bow skills while Felix ignored him in favor of the melee dummies.

The bad dreams didn’t stop, but they dwindled. When shadowy hands came for Ashe in his sleep, he could retreat into Dedue’s warm embrace, dreaming of his firelight. His bruises lessened to vague rosy patches, and Dedue helped him change his bandages twice more before the scars on his thighs faded to faint silver scratches Ashe deemed acceptable. Perhaps Ashe was not perfectly healthy yet, but he was healing, physically and mentally. For Dedue, it was simply enough that Ashe was here, blooming again by his side.

Then Flayn went missing, and Dedue’s worst nightmares came crawling back with a vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn but make it even slower. You have my word that there will *eventually* be something at least resembling a confession!
> 
> I've noticed that a few different fics mention Discord servers for various pairings. Is there a general FE3H writers one? I'll probably be stuck here in rare/side pairing hell for a while, but I love talking about writing and things and stuff :)


	8. Rest

Only days after returning from the mission, the Professor informed the Blue Lions that Flayn, Seteth’s enthusiastic younger, had gone missing. The whole monastery jumped into action, engaging every possible resource at their disposal to track her down. Hopefully, she would return safe and sound, but days had passed without any leads. Days that Flayn must have spent alone, terrified, waiting for her rescue. 

A reaper, they said. A cruel and terrifying villain lurking in the shadows the town below, prowling for defenseless prey. Ashe was safe here in the monastery. He promised Dedue that if he ventured to the town again, he wouldn’t go alone; he’d prefer to have Dedue by his side, anyway. Of course, Dedue preferred that too. But he was safe here now, right? Well… With Flayn’s disappearance, that fragile illusion they had both worked so hard to build, to reinforce… It shattered in an instant. If even _Flayn_, who Seteth so very rarely let so much as out of his sight, could vanish from the guarded monastery grounds, then no one was safe. Not until the kidnappers were captured and brought to justice. Harsh justice, if Seteth had his say. 

Ashe was as much a warrior as any of the students. But then, none of them were truly safe, warriors or not. Still, Dedue longed to be his constant shield. In a way, he regarded Ashe in much the same way as his prince. Dedue loved them both, in different ways, and with all the might in his heart and hands, he swore to protect them. Bottomless evil flowed from the wells of the world, blossoming in each and every corner and crevice of the land. If not the reaper, if not the bandits, more monsters would come still. Perhaps when His Highness ascended the throne, Faerghus might see peace once more. Until another storm landed, and another enemy crawled up from the pits of darkness, and another tragedy struck, wiping away all they had built.

* * *

Despite the disquieting air hanging over the monastery, Ashe healed remarkably over the first two weeks of Horsebow Moon. His bruises faded, then vanished, leaving not even the faintest trace behind. Ashe had even shown Dedue when they first disappeared. He took Dedue’s reluctant hand in his own, guiding his palm over the speckled ivory skin of his abdomen. Concrete, undeniable, breathtakingly beautiful proof that he was healing, and that Dedue needn’t worry over him so much. Ashe had giggled at his trepidation, and rightly so. Such a small, innocent touch should hardly shake Dedue after he pulled Ashe from the baths, after he redressed his wounds with such intimate caresses. 

Ashe attended class more regularly now, missing only a few scattered mornings when his most harrowing dreams chained him under the blankets, imprisoning him in smothering terrors and heavy waves of fatigue. He hated those mornings. He hated how it was his _own mind_ that pinned him to the bed, which forced him to relive that day in excruciating detail. A small patch of clover had grown in the alley. If Ashe had just moved an inch, he could have cushioned some of the wear on his knees. But that little comfort wouldn’t nullify the rest of their abuse. It wouldn’t get rid of the blotchy handprint-shaped welts they smacked into his-

Goddess. Ashe hated how much he apparently remembered despite his attempts to block it all out. How many breadcrumbs and flashes and vivid, insignificant details he could muster to torment himself.

In all the darkness, there was at least one silver lining. If Ashe hadn’t arrived within a few minutes of the lecture beginning, it was clear he wouldn’t be in attendance. Dedue would quietly excuse himself with the Professor’s implicit approval, and in moments, he would be there. He knocked as a formality these days, at Ashe’s request. Ashe could hardly speak those mornings, could hardly move or make a coherent sound until Dedue gathered him up in his gentle, loving arms and whispered soft, sweet words into his tangled silver hair. Ashe curled into him, inhaling his spices and warmth. It was almost second nature at this point. Dedue didn’t complain when Ashe squeezed the color out of his fingers, didn’t even flinch when he dug crescent scars into his back, sobbing and trembling against his chest.

_"I am here, Ashe."_

* * *

Ashe quickly caught up on his lessons with Annette and the Professor’s help, but his physical skills lagged behind, still showing some atrophy from his weeks of rest. After completing his lessons for the day, he headed to the training grounds. Dedue spent much of his time with Dimitri these days, leaving Ashe to his own devices. Perhaps that was no surprise, as Ashe had proven himself healed. Of course, they were often apart before... the markets. This was technically normal. Still, Ashe missed their quiet tea times and private dinners. When loneliness crept up on him in the nights, he’d light the thinning vanilla candle Dedue left for him and watch the flames dance until his weariness dragged him down into the darkness. In some ways, it helped fill the empty void where Dedue used to sit at his desk, but it was no true substitute. Margarine to his butter, paltry flour-water bread to Dedue’s perfect, flaky pastry crusts.

They still sat side by side in class. Dedue would quietly take his hand if he noticed Ashe shaking with nerves. They still spent time together in the gardens, where Dedue kept a perfect plot of violets in the back, out of the Professor’s rotating harvests. The violets would stay, he said, until Ashe wished to replant them. Of course, he didn’t - how could he? They were beautiful! His favorite, too. Of course, Dedue knew that, or he wouldn’t have poured so much care into growing them. Little gestures like the violets, like Duscur spices in the recipes they cooked during their kitchen shifts. Wordless check-ins, with his touch, with his gaze, caring for Ashe whenever he could spare the time.

Admittedly, such time was scarce these days. Ashe couldn’t ask Dedue to put him over Dimitri, or any of his duties really. Especially not with rumors of a reaper slinking around. The cuts and bruises were long gone. He was fine. The nightmares stayed, but Ashe was fine. Even if he wasn’t, he didn’t need to take any more of Dedue’s time, not when he already stretched himself so thin…

All this to say that Ashe had his reasons for seeking out Felix in the noble pursuit of self-defense training. The swordsman had been reluctant, to say the least, but after hearing Ashe speak, he softened. Well, the annoyance in his eyes seemed to fade, if only a little. He would never admit it, but Ashe noticed that Felix had a small soft spot for him, or at least, a slightly less prickly spot. Perhaps it was because their stories were similar in some ways, even if they had grown very differently. Or perhaps Felix just didn’t think Ashe was worth snapping at.

“I want to grow stronger! So you all don’t need to worry about me on the battlefield, if I, um, if I get flanked or something like that!”

“Hm. You’d be better off asking Bernadetta... Though, if it makes you less of a nuisance… Fine. ” Felix agreed to train him in close combat, just the basics. He packed some strength behind his punches, but dexterity was the real key to Felix’s finesse. While Ashe managed to learn a few moves well enough to replicate, he didn’t learn them readily. His body wasn’t trained for the stress and speed of melee combat. If he spent too long thinking about his next moves, Felix would sneak in a jab, muddling his thoughts even further. From afar, Ashe could take cover, and think about his next shot, or sneakily reposition to get a better angle if he needed. Here, his only choice was to fight.

The pair sparred for some time. As long as Ashe could manage, anyway. Despite his gradual recovery, his body still ached at the exertion. In an odd moment of care, Felix must have noticed, too, because his punches and counters only barely met Ashe’s skin. Each time he landed a blow, the contact proved a point more than it attempted to pursue victory. Ashe’s knees nearly gave out on him after the fifth bout, but he tried to push on. After another loss, Ashe pushed himself up from his knees, re-assuming the defensive stance Felix taught him before any punches or maneuvers.

“Stop.” Felix sighed, exasperated.

“H-huh?” Ashe frowned. He hadn’t learned nearly enough to quit, even if his lungs begged him to.

“You’re done.”

“I can keep going!”

“No, you can’t.” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fighting when you don’t have the strength left… It makes you reckless. You’re not going to learn anything like that.” It was true that Ashe had made less progress in the later rounds. Even if he recognized Felix’s openings, he hardly had the strength to push at them.

“You’re probably right…” Ashe huffed, ambling to one of the benches on the edge of the training yard as he caught his breath. Felix might have gone easy on him in the last few rounds, but the punches he landed early on still throbbed with a dull, hammering pain. Felix was stronger than his lithe build might suggest, although he was strong at everything... “I just… I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore.”

Felix dragged a few targets onto the training grounds.

“I thought you said I was done?”

“Yes.” Felix rolled his eyes, “These are for me.”

“But you don’t… Has the Professor been teaching you archery?”

“Worse.”

“Worse?”

“Black magic.” He spat.

“Oh, I’m not very good at that… I asked Annette to teach me some a while back, but, well… I didn’t quite take to that, either. I’m sure you could cast it, though! You’re so skilled at everything! Like… Like a real hero!”

“Disgusting.” Felix groaned. “If you’re going to sit there and watch, can you at least _try_ not to annoy me.”

“Sorry!” Ashe flushed. One of the monastery cats wandered onto the grounds. A particularly bold one, by the looks of it. The ginger tabby padded over to Ashe, accepting his small offering of leftover jerky bits from the dining hall. Even when Felix started flinging malformed spells at the targets, the cat didn’t flinch. Brave. Or maybe it just couldn’t be bothered, like Felix. It curled into Ashe’s lap, deigning to accept his gentle pats for the time being. Ashe watched Felix for a while, quietly observing from the bench where he was pinned in place by the cat claiming dominion over his legs. 

Thunder leapt out of his hands, sprawling out onto the training grounds. In its own way, the thunder magic suited Felix. Perhaps he didn’t call the spells forth with Annette’s precision or Mercedes’ focused will, but the raw power was clearly there, borne from some unfathomably deep-seated anger. Frustration, maybe. Blue lightning erupted from his arms, sending sparking bolts everywhere. Everywhere but the targets, anyway. Felix lacked the focus Ashe had always seen in him when he leveled his sword against an enemy on the battlefield. His spells always seemed to splinter away just short of the dummies, or to veer off course halfway through their path.

“Tch,” Felix scoffed, “Only a fool thinks he has no weaknesses.”

Ashe fed the cat another piece of jerky, deciding against his urge to speak, lest Felix have more to say. Despite his reluctance, despite his sharp-tongue, Ashe valued his advice. His ideas on chivalry might be a little odd, but Felix still had a code, and he lived up to his own ideals without apology.

“The boar would always beat me in a contest of pure strength, but he’s no match for my blade. You’re obviously even weaker than us both, but that brute would snap your little bow in half if he tried to use it.”

Felix fired off another thunder spell; it fizzled a few feet short of its mark.

“Each of us has weaknesses and strengths. Some more than others, obviously.” Felix flung a purple orb at the target, missing it by a wide, wide margin. It was unfocused, dripping untamed dark magic before it even left his hands. Worse than the other spells by a long shot. “But every man and every _beast_ has its weakness.” 

“I…” Ashe faltered.

“You can’t just… Ugh.” Felix sighed, “You can’t fix it. Just learn how to work around yours. Train on guarding it. Mastery of your strength is impossible without mastering your weaknesses.”

“W-Wow Felix, that was really deep! You sounded like-”

“Another fucking word about your knights and I’ll aim the next one at you.”

“Will you hit your mark?” Ashe giggled.

Felix scowled. It was truly a wonder that he hadn’t obliterated Ashe then and there. Still, there was a grain of truth in his words. Or maybe more than a grain. A whole bowl of grains. Hmmm. Ashe’s stomach growled.

“Want to get something at the dining hall? I think the special this week is spicy fish dumplings...”

“Whatever.” Felix rolled his eyes, gathering up the black magic books the Professor insisted he lug around. A nice meal would do them both some good, and maybe he’d catch Dedue at dinner...

* * *

_”D-Dedue? Where are you?”_

Smoke.

_”P-Please, you d-don’t understand!” _

Blood.

_”They… They r-ruined me…”_

Fire.

Altogether a grotesque coven glutting on Dedue’s dreams. Some nights, he fought off the hags, banishing them far enough from his mind that he might get a couple hours of sleep. Other nights, they sunk their claws in deep, gnawing at his heart, his eyes and his stomach, and everything in between. Those nights, he lie awake, keeping his silent vigil until the sunlight drove away his darkness.

One night turned into two, two into three, among which he had collected less than a night’s sleep of fitful intermittent resting. His fatigue clouded his normally impeccable attention, and it showed. Dimitri and Mercedes noticed. The Professor noticed. Ashe noticed most of all. Try as he might, his forced little smiles couldn’t brush away Ashe’s concerns. Dedue couldn’t protect those he loved. Not Ashe, not Dimitri, not his family…

He was a mere child, then. Against an army? Dedue had no hope to prevail; the thought that somehow he could have prevented their deaths was laughable. Bizarre, even. No one could have blamed him for his failure. No one would have. Yet the pain still pierced at his heart, weighing heavy in his chest. His anguish faded over the years, but never quite vanished. He plugged the holes with a new duty - protecting the prince. More recently, his focus shifted to Ashe, and once again, Dedue had failed to protect. A flimsy shield.

When sleep truly evaded him, Dedue visited the gardens. He sat along the bricks lining his plot of violets, brushing away any stray leaves that had fallen onto the dirt in his short absence. He plucked away the beginnings of each sprouting weed, quashing them before they had a chance to take root.

Violets thrive in the early spring when the rain is cool and rich, though they grow well all throughout the fall. A little shade does nicely to shield them from the harsh rays of the sun. With enough finesse, the monastery greenhouse could mimic most plants’ preferred growing conditions well enough, and magic made up for the rest. Just a little care and they flourish. Violets blossom in any heat, in any soil, in any garden where they are planted. Resilient little things, as long as they have solid ground beneath them. In truth, they would bloom just fine without his overly careful touch. Dedue mothered them for other reasons.

“Dedue? What are you doing out here so late?” Ashe slipped into the greenhouse, bundled up in cloaks. Navy and charcoal fabrics nearly swallowed him whole; his head barely peeked out from the swaths of linen and velveteen.

“Ashe.” Dedue turned to face him, rubbing the wear from his eyes, “Did you walk here by yourself? It is not safe to be out alone at night.”

“I know… That was rather foolish of me.” Ashe shuffled over, sitting on the bricked ledge beside him, “I just wanted to see the garden…”

“You should be in bed.” Dedue murmured. And it was true, despite the fact that he could easily say the same right back to Dedue.

“I couldn’t sleep... I thought maybe the flowers would help… They’re lovely.” Ashe timidly laced their fingers together, “I’m glad I found you too, though.”

“Nor could I.” Dedue squeezed his hand, “I am glad you’re safe. Please do not be so reckless.”

“Sorry, I know it was dumb...” Ashe brushed over a few soft, verdant leaves, plucking a perfect violet from the patch. It smelled of the warm spring rain and the sweet little moments they shared in the kitchen. Perfect, but fleeting.

“Nightmares?” Dedue stayed silent, gazing at the violets. Ashe pressed on. “I had some...”

“I am here, if I may be of comfort to you.” Dedue met his eyes, if only for a short moment. 

“Thank you, Dedue.” Ashe smiled, “Perhaps you may be able to set my mind at ease…”

“Anything you need, Ashe.”

“I want you to do something for me.” Ashe breathed. Dedue quirked an eyebrow, but slowly nodded his affirmation. Ashe tucked his flower behind the Duscur man’s ear. “It might be difficult, but it would bring me a great deal of comfort.”

“And what might this be?”

“Please… Tell me what’s bothering you, Dedue. I can tell something’s wrong!” Ashe tugged at his tunic, “I hate seeing you like this… Promise to let me help _you_. It’s the least I can do, really.” 

“Ashe.” Dedue sighed, “You need not trouble yourself with me.”

“Don’t say things like that. You’re never a trouble to me, you know that.” Minty green eyes stared up at him, burning with stern defiance. That same look he got whenever an unfortunate passerby brought up his homeland, or whenever Dedue tore himself down. “And I want to!”

“If you insist.” Dedue swallowed thickly, words piling up in his throat. But could he let them out? Did he have the strength?

“I do. Promise, please?” Glimmering eyes softened as Ashe bit his lip, so unfairly cute. So seemingly oblivious to the effect he had on Dedue. Every hopeful little glance, that pleading lilt to his words - he hacked and slashed at Dedue’s resolve until he wholly crumbled. 

“Alright. I will promise you this. Perhaps… Perhaps some tea is in order.”

* * *

The two found their way back to Ashe’s room. It was tidier these days, without the wads of clothes strewn about the wooden floors. The desk was clear of cluttered class notes and borrowed books. Ashe returned the spare blankets and pillows to the infirmary, lest someone else have need of them. He kept the candles, though. Ashe set a kettle to warm at the tiny fireplace while Dedue lit a sweet-scented candle. Soon enough, the aroma of ginger filled the air, mingling with the vanilla and dry mint emanating from Ashe’s own tea stash.

“You like this kind, right? Did you used to have it back home?” Dedue nodded.

“There were other blends in Duscur, too. We often used cinnamon and cream in the tea.”

“Interesting… I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like that, but it does sound quite tasty.” After a few moments of steeping, Ashe poured a bit of the tea into each of their teacups. “We can try making some this weekend if you like.” The warmth itself was calming enough, though Dedue appreciated the ginger as well. Another tiny sign of how deeply Ashe cared for his friends.

“Hey…”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to tell me everything, or um, anything you don’t want to… But I’d like to know, if you want me to.” Ashe smiled, though Dedue noted worry slipping through the cracks. “I’m a good listener... Or we can just have tea!” Dedue gazed down at him, unreadable. “Anything you need, Dedue. I’m here.”

“Thank you, Ashe.” Dedue sipped at his tea for a long moment before he could attempt to continue. “It is true that my dreams have been unsettling.” Despite Ashe’s clear desire to help, it felt wrong to burden him with the lead weighing down his heart. Ashe already had his share of troubles.

“What were they about? Duscur?” Ashe took a sip of his own tea, flushing down his curiosity, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I would not wish to unsettle you.”

“You won’t unsettle me.” Ashe let out a bitter laugh, “I’ve been through my own hardships.”

“Ah, of course.” Dedue kicked himself. Ashe had lost his own parents and fought desperately to keep his siblings afloat. He’d just been assaulted for the gods’ sakes. Of course he wouldn’t crumble in the face of Dedue’s fears. 

“Oh, um, I don’t mean that I’ve been through as much as you, Dedue! Your life has been really, really hard… And you’ve made it this far because you’re really strong!” Ashe set his teacup on the desk in favor of taking Dedue’s free hand in both of his own. He could still feel the steamy warmth of the tea on Ashe’s fingers. “But it’s okay to hurt, too...”

“I could not protect them.” Dedue murmured. He stared down at his teacup, swirling around the small grains of ginger and lemon that settled to the bottom.

“Hey… You can’t blame yourself for what happened.” He didn’t lift his head; he couldn’t meet Ashe’s eyes. Not after half-voicing the fears that coiled around his neck each night. “Dedue, you were just a kid.”

“Ashe…” Dedue choked, “I failed to protect you.”

“That’s not true,” Ashe whispered, pulling Dedue’s chin down to rest against the smaller boy’s thin shoulder. He was slender, a little bonier, probably not as comfortable as his own was for Ashe. But here… He could nestle into the curve of Ashe’s ivory skin, he could smell the clover honey and lavender soaps, and on his hands, hints of the beeswax Ashe used to polish his bow. “I’m here… You _saved_ me, Dedue.” He could let go, only for the night. Only with Ashe. 

“I do not wish to lose you again.” A tiny wet spot bloomed on Ashe’s tunic. Dedue was nearly still, silent and unshaken even as few thin tears dripped onto Ashe’s shoulder. “When I lose sight of you… My apologies. It is difficult to describe.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dedue. I promise.” Ashe smoothed down the back of his tunic, rubbing gentle circles into the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry, I won’t be so reckless…”

“It’s alright.” Dedue tried for a smile, though it was cheerless. “I would not ask you to lock yourself away for my sake.”

“Still…” Ashe slid into his lap, repositioning so Dedue wouldn’t have to crane his head so far down. He straddled Dedue’s hips, light as a feather when he rested on his legs. “I wouldn’t mind, if it helped.” Ashe pulled him close, whispers quiet as the crackling candle, “As long as you visited me in my tower.” Dedue chuckled, sending deep vibrations through his chest. “Hmm, I guess you’d have to cook for me, too.”

“Thank you, Ashe.” Dedue pulled away, wiping at the drying wake of his tears. “I will not keep you from resting.” Regrettable that Ashe had to witness his weakness, but Dedue couldn’t deny that he found some solace in his arms.

“D-Dedue?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me tonight…” Ashe chewed at his lip, nervous as though Dedue hadn’t already spent nights sleeping on Ashe’s floor. This was nothing new, though he could see how the request might be embarrassing. He hardly minded the ache in his back the following day if it calmed either of their nightmares.

Dedue nodded, “I shall procure some extra blankets, then.”

“Ah, um, Dedue?” Ashe stammered.

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor this time…” Ashe flushed, “If you’re close then… Then you’ll know I’m here, and that I’m safe… And I’ll know you’re there.”

If not on the floor, then… Oh.

Dedue’s mind went blank, every synapse firing, or rather misfiring at the same time. Had he just… Did he… Was Ashe… The touches and whispers and sweet, intoxicating smell of honey and lavender, that was enough, that was _more_ than enough. Dedue let himself go, just for the night, for Ashe, but... this… Dedue didn’t know if he could let himself have _this_.

* * *

Oh, Goddess, maybe that was too forward. Maybe that was way, _way_ too forward.

Dedue froze, every muscle in his body tensing at once. Ashe could see a hint of pink tinting his cheeks - no small feat with his stoicism, made ever more challenging by his amber skin.

It was selfish, too. Dedue had just trusted Ashe with his deepest worries, and of course, he probably needed comfort right now, but Ashe couldn’t just… Even if it would help Dedue as he hoped, he couldn’t deny that he wanted Dedue beside him for his own, greedy reasons.

“I, um, of course, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything!” Ashe stared at the blankets, wishing he could just sink down into them and disappear. “So you can also just forget I said that, and I’ll also forget I said that and-”

“Ashe… Are you truly comfortable with this?” Oh? Dedue still blushed, but he seemed, at least… curious? Not negative. Disbelieving? And maybe that was fair because, at this point, Ashe could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Of course!” Ashe rose from the bed, shyly taking his hand. Heart racing, he steadied himself, for he’d already crossed the line moments ago. Ashe spoke slowly, attempting to iron out his tangled nerves, “Dedue, your presence brings me a great deal of comfort. And if mine m-might do the same, then… I want to help. If, um, if you want that, that is.”

“A-Alright.” Dedue stuttered. His shy little smile melted Ashe’s anxiety away. He was okay, this was okay. Maybe he hadn’t overstepped as badly as he thought.

Ashe peeled back the comforter, clambering towards the back of the bed with Dedue in tow. He was all too aware of his body now, as though only now did he realize how small the monastery beds were. If he pressed himself up against the wall, there might be enough room for him and Dedue to sleep separately, though it certainly wouldn’t be comfortable. And comforting Dedue was the whole point!

* * *

Dedue slipped in beside him, barely a hand’s width away. Large as he was, the monastery beds were too small, and he took up far more of the space than Ashe. The warmth of the blankets and sweet vanilla of the candle eased his nerves, yet Ashe’s proximity heightened every one of his senses. Eye to eye, inches apart, Dedue picked up on every tiny movement and uneven breath. His body grew sluggish, giving in to the temptation of resting once more, but his mind raced, unable to tear itself away from the mystical sylph lying across from him. Tired as they both were, he could hardly fall asleep like this.

Radiant. Ashe was radiant. He shouldn’t stare. Pale light trickled through the high windows, illuminating his skin. Silver, head to toe, broken only by his pale blue tunic and sleepy emerald eyes glittering with all the light of the stars. Dedue forced his eyes shut.

Do not stare. Do not dare stare at your love under the glow of moonlight.

Shameful. Do not _dare_ think him yours.

“Ah… Dedue?” Ashe’s nervous whisper pierced through his haze.

“...Yes?” His lips worked against him, tongue already unwieldy with sleep.

“If it’s, um, if it’s okay with you,” Ashe murmured, “May I…” 

“You may touch me however you like, Ashe.” Dedue drowsily mumbled, “I grant you permission, now and always.”

“However I like?” Ashe giggled. Ah. Well, Dedue had not meant for his words to come across so… suggestively, even if his invitation stood firm even in that context. Heat crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks once more. 

Ashe inched closer, toying at the collar of Dedue’s tunic. Gentle, cold fingers walked their way up his neck, drawing out a sudden shiver from the Duscur man. Whether it was from the temperature or the teasing affection, he couldn’t say. Dedue’s eyes fluttered open just as Ashe began to comb through his hair, gently freeing it from its tie. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Ashe breathed. He ran his fingers through the white locks, sending Dedue’s heart into a breakneck sprint. Dedue began to understand how his own touch always soothed Ashe so easily. Apart from his family long ago, no one had ever held him like this before. He didn’t truly know the words to describe how he felt. “It looks lovely like this…”

“Enjoying yourself?” Dedue cautiously rested a hand on Ashe’s waist. Was this too much? Ashe’s reddened cheeks burned a shade brighter. Stars, this was too much.

“Yours is much thicker than mine! You should grow it longer one day...” Or not. Ashe snuggled closer, seemingly encouraged by the hand and Dedue’s kind, sleepy eyes. “Does it feel nice? I like it when you touch mine.” Dedue nodded, far too lost to find the words. Closer and closer, until they were nearly flush together, Ashe’s hands tangled in his hair, Dedue’s arm coiled around the smaller boy’s waist, and those eyes. Shiny river stones, staring up at him, so full of…

Love?

Fondness, maybe. Love was surely too strong a word. Dedue didn’t dare to presume. But the way Ashe gazed at him, serene and trusting, willing Dedue closer with every touch... Was this wrong? Could Dedue even tell anymore? Was it even worth finding the line he’d surely already crossed?

Maybe not. Dedue could simply let himself fall asleep in Ashe’s gentle caress. Let Ashe whisper sweet words against his hair, and curl into his slender chest to find shelter against the bitter cold of this merciless, unending winter. Dedue pulled him closer, slow and steady, giving Ashe plenty of time to pull away before their chests met, closing the last tiny rift between them. 

“I’m right here, Dedue. I’m not going anywhere, promise.” Ashe nestled into his neck, still toying with a few strands of his hair, “Get some rest, you deserve it.”

“You must also rest.”

“I will - once you fall asleep!” Ashe pouted, freeing a few fingers to trace his jaw, “You promised to let me help, remember? You first, so I know.” And stars above, maybe Dedue could. Just for the night. Just this once, for Ashe.

“Very well.” Dedue sighed. Hesitant as he may have been, he drifted off soon after his eyes slid shut. Lavender and honey carried him far, far away to a land without reapers, without tragedies and trauma. Only this. Only the world in Ashe’s arms.

Only for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left :(
> 
> But by the looks of it, I'm physically incapable of stopping myself from writing far too much, so we'll see.
> 
> You know, I thought I was gonna get warmed up and then dive into writing smut, but no, now I have this endless pile of fluff and pining because _my boys are just too cute._
> 
> And I love it.
> 
> Special thanks to all the commenters, your feedback helps me decide what stuff works well and what I want to focus on going forward, and it's just nice to see :)


	9. Violet

Dedue’s spade hovered over the soil, motionless while he processed the mysterious, complex equations he used to determine the spacing of each seed pod. Gardening was not so much a chore to Dedue as it was an art, and he had mastered his medium. Though unlike the other times Ashe had joined him in the greenhouse, his teal eyes seemed… far away. Like he was thinking about something else. Something not the garden in front of him. 

Something… unclear. Try as he might to learn all Dedue’s little tells, Ashe couldn’t read his mind. Not yet, anyway. Though with enough practice, he might be able to manage it one day.

“Dedue?” Ashe laid his spade on the bricks. No response. Hmm, he really was spaced out. Ashe took his arm, gently tugging him out of his haze. “You there?”

“Ah, Ashe.” Dedue set his own spade aside. “I apologize. I was distracted.” A hint of red tinged his cheeks, probably from the sheer exertion of tilling an entire greenhouse. Typically the greenhouse was a temple for Dedue - a place where he melded into the earth and became totally, utterly one with his work. Ashe loved seeing him like that. He was always so careful with his work - so thoughtful. Even these days, when there was just too much to think about. 

“I can see that,” Ashe shifted, fully facing him now. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.” Dedue smiled at him, a small smile, sure, but it was his smile, the one Dedue wore for Ashe alone. Ashe flushed. 

“Oh really,” Ashe’s heart hammered in his chest, surely audible at this point as it hammered out some unsteady rhythm. Ashe tugged at Dedue’s tunic, climbing into his lap. He grew far too bold these days. “And would you care to share those thoughts?” Dedue’s hands settled at his waist, mooring like ships sailing home to their harbor.

“You are beautiful.” Dedue brushed through his silver hair, tucking a small daisy behind his ear.

“Is that so?” Ashe giggled. He leaned down to press a quick, shy peck to Dedue’s cheek.

“Do you not believe me?” Dedue chuckled. And was that..? Ashe could swear to the Goddess that was a _smirk_ on Dedue’s face. His mouth tilted up at the corners, just the slightest, almost imperceptible amount, and his teal eyes shone with such effortless confidence. And how could he not be so confident, Dedue was perfect, after all. “I have no reason to lie.”

“Hmm,” Ashe fiddled with the tie in his hair, clever fingers loosening it quickly. Coarse, white hair spilled over his shoulders, free for Ashe to caress however he pleased. “You’ll have to prove it.” Perhaps it wasn’t kind to tease, but Ashe couldn’t help himself. Not in his dreams, anyhow. Dedue pulled him down into a deep, loving kiss. Sweet and gentle and intense and wanting all the same. Just like Dedue, really.

* * *

“Yeah! I’ll show ‘em, Professor!” Caspar yelled out, “With your training and my strength, no one can beat me in a brawl!”

“Caspar, this is an axe tournament.”

“Huh?” Caspar laughed, “I knew that! I’m just saying, uh I’m a man of many talents - yeah! Let’s win this thing, Professor!”

Caspar’s loud, _loud_ tenor laughter stirred Dedue from his dreams. Mere fantasies of what could have been. Fantasies that unbeknownst to either of them, were identical, mark for mark. Dedue woke to a cream-colored ceiling, unremarkable save for the fact that it was Ashe’s ceiling, rather than his own. Harsh sunlight streamed through the high windows. Students bustled about outside, their chattering clear through the thin stone walls. Past noon, then. It must be.

Students gathered outside the dormitories and classrooms before migrating to the dining hall en masse. Ugh. They must have missed their morning classes. Such a predicament might typically spur Dedue into motion if he had ever unintentionally missed class before. He might feel compelled to offer the Professor his sincerest apologies and pick up additional chores to make up for his absence. Not today, though.

Not with Ashe cuddled into his side, pinning him down with five delicate fingers fisted into his tunic. No, it was difficult, nigh impossible even, to find the motivation to move a single inch. It would be a crime to wake Ashe anyway, past noon or not. He needed his rest. Dedue may never find himself in this position again, tangled up in Ashe’s bed with all the closeness of lovers.

“_Stay with me tonight… If you’re close then… Then you’ll know I’m here, and that I’m safe… And I’ll know you’re there._”

So it hadn’t been a dream, then. It hadn’t been an insomnia-induced delusion when Ashe held Dedue and asked him into his bed. This was real. Ashe was real. Concrete and adorable at his side.

“_I’m right here, Dedue. I’m not going anywhere, promise._”

Solace, finally - a slow, quiet peace that always bloomed in Ashe’s presence. Dedue hadn’t felt so rested in weeks, and neither had Ashe, by the looks of his deep slumber. To move, to leave? That would break them both out of this restful trance they both so desperately needed. Why leave when Dedue had the prince’s carte blanche for matters involving Ashe, even after he had started attending class again? When he had the Professor’s-

Ah, the Professor had assigned him to weed the monastery gardens with His Highness today… He must leave, then. It would be unthinkably inconsiderate to leave all the work for one person, let alone his liege. Unfortunate. Cursed, even. It was settled; Dedue must leave. Still, he could hardly let Ashe wake up alone.

Now, how to wake him up… Ashe looked so peaceful. His lips parted ever so slightly, breathing faintly against Dedue’s side. Messy locks of silver fell into his face, weaving across his skin like vines. Dedue could comb through that unruly silver hair, smoothing down the errant tufts of his bed head. It would be so easy to gather up those slender fingers balled into his shirt and press Ashe’s hand to his lips.

No, of course not. Absurd, really.

“Ashe.” Dedue ran his palm along the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“Five more minutes…” Ashe grumbled, snuggling deeper into the crook of Dedue’s neck. Tempting. Another five minutes wasn’t so much to ask. Perhaps the prince would take his time eating with the Professor today. The day’s tasks awaited, but Dedue could still savor this moment while it lasted. Still, best not to linger too long while Ashe’s charm chipped at his self-control.

“You’ll miss lunch.” 

“Eh… how cruel…” Ashe woke with a yawn. He rubbed his eyes, sluggishly blinking away the last traces of his slumber. “How did you sleep?”

“Quite well.” Dedue hadn’t slept so soundly since… He couldn’t quite recall. Moons ago, he still hadn’t felt comfortable in the monastery beds, and before then, despite the prince’s grace, there were still some nights that he could not shed his burdens. Sharing some with Ashe lifted a weight from his shoulders, if only a small one. If Ashe insisted on carrying Dedue’s troubles alongside his own, then he looked forward to the day where he might dare to lean on Ashe again, and lift another small weight. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help!” Ashe beamed, “We both needed the rest. You look a lot better… I was worried about you, Dedue.”

“My apologies for-”

“Don’t apologize.” Ashe released Dedue’s tunic in favor of cradling his cheek with cold fingers burning against his amber skin. “You have nothing to be sorry for, really. I’m here whenever you need, Dedue.” 

“Thank you.” Dedue brushed a few wayward silver strands out of his eyes. “I will not keep you.” Though when he moved to slide away, Ashe tugged at his shoulder.

“Don’t leave just yet.” Ashe flushed, “You’re warm…”

Dedue chuckled, rolling back to let Ashe nestle into his chest. “Be that as it may, the Professor has assigned me and His Highness to rid the monastery of weeds today. I must go.”

“What?!” Ashe pouted, “Why’d they have to choose you? You do enough weeding already!” Ashe let out a soft sigh, breathing in all the spices pressed into his tunic. He combed through Dedue’s hair, working out the slept-in tangles. “More than everyone else in the house combined, probably.”

“Perhaps that is true. However-”

“I know, I know… You must go.” Ashe pulled away, letting the cold morning air brush between them. He shivered. “Come back, Dedue. Stay with me again, whenever you like.” Dedue frowned.

_You do not deserve him._  
_He does not know what this means to you._  
_It would be an intrusion._  
_He could not refuse you._  
_It's taking advantage._

“I-”

“You got some real rest! A-and I did too!” Ashe twisted the woolen blankets between his fingers. A nervous habit.

"I don't wish to intrude."

"You're no intrusion, you know that." Ashe smiled with all the warmth of a steaming cup of his favorite ginger tea. "I like having you here, Dedue... It helps me sleep too."

"Ashe..."

"But, um, I won't ask you to stay again if you're uncomfortable." He bit his lip as though it might seal off the worry and doubt leaking from his words, "I'm sure you'd feel more comfortable in your own room anyway."

“I cannot feel comfortable inviting myself here.” Ashe’s face fell. “But I am not uncomfortable sleeping beside you.”

“I… I don’t really understand.”

“You may ask me here whenever you wish, and my door is open to you as well.” Dedue managed a small smile, “I simply must know that it is your wish each time. I will not presume.”

“It is, I promise.” Ashe beamed, overwhelmed with relief, “But I understand.” He brushed a few budding tears from his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s just… You’re so thoughtful...” Ashe pulled him into a tight hug, “That’s _why_ I feel comfortable with you, and with this. Stay with me again tonight, please.” His eyes glittered.

“I shall return, then.”

* * *

The monastery grounds stretched over the mountainside, covering the lands with cobblestone, save for a few carefully manicured patches of garden space. Though the greenery added to the monastery’s aesthetic, the monks only planted decorative hedges and grass outside of the greenhouse. A waste, truly. Still, a waste that the Professor had taken advantage of. Though monotonous, weeding the scattered lawns functioned as an exercise in focus and physical fitness alike.

Restless as he may be, there was no use in trying to rush. Rip too harshly, and the stem breaks away from the root. Work too carelessly, and you may risk missing tiny patches of clover hiding away in the grass. Wait too long between weeding, and all the weeds will pile up. Time, care, consistency. A practice in all virtues.

Dedue made his way to the tool shed. The prince had already found his way there. He was in the process of fishing two matching gloves out of a jumbled bin. Whichever students tended the gardens last had left the shed in quite a state of disarray. Perhaps after weeding, Dedue would see to reorganizing, and maybe Ashe might be awake enough to help.

“Ah,” Dimitri turned away from the mess of tools, “ Dedue. You look well.”

“Your Highness.” The two of them set about their work, as they had many times before. The Professor was quite fond of assigning them to work together each week in hopes of bolstering their synergy on the battlefield. Dedue and his liege were close enough already, though the added rigors of each mission did strengthen their bond even further. Though mysterious, and perhaps a bit too young, the Professor was uncannily wise in these matters.

Dedue set about uprooting some of the thinner-stemmed sprouts, leaving Dimitri to dig out shorter, gnarled weeds that had taken root. While his brute force could often be a detriment, he was unlikely to break the stringier invaders. Dedue found a patch of wildflowers hiding under the shade of the gazebo. Splendid little daisies clustered around the stone columns. Technically, they, too, were weeds, but quite beautiful ones. 

“Dedue,” Dimitri spoke up from the other side of the field. Dedue turned away from the blooms; he would leave them be.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“It is alright to take some things for yourself.”

“...I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.”

“Ah, well,” He gathered up the last of the wilting weeds, tossing them into a nearby wheelbarrow. “It is something Mercedes said to me once, though I must admit I don’t fully understand her words sometimes either. What I mean to say is that you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

“I understand,” Dedue shook his head, “But I will not falter in my duties, Your Highness.”

“You are of little use to us while exhausted.” Dimitri sighed, “Though I care more for your well-being than your utility. This week… You have worried me, Dedue. I know that I cannot convince you to be at ease here, but I would ask that you take better care of yourself first and foremost.”

Dedue nodded. “I will consider this.”

* * *

The days seemed shorter. Of course, they were actually getting shorter as winter crept up on the monastery, but really, it was Dedue’s company that sped Ashe’s days along. The Professor kept the Blue Lions quite busy as of late. Ashe barely saw him outside of class, save for a few chance meetings in the kitchens and dining hall. That absence would have worried him two weeks ago, but these days, Ashe contented himself with taking Dedue’s nights. 

Once a week, he’d promised, but Dedue didn’t seem to mind, so maybe twice a week would be okay? Ashe couldn’t help himself, and the limits he swore to himself dissolved in the face of spending each night wrapped up in the arms of the man who felt like home. After class and training and chores, when all his energy for the day was spent, Ashe slipped into the room next to his own and joined Dedue under the oversized blankets. 

Sometimes Dedue was already asleep, but more often, he lie awake, reading one of his books on herbalism or tending to scuffs in his armor. Sometimes they spoke, though the silence was comfortable too. Sometimes one of them would make tea. The nightmares still came, here and there, but not nearly as often as before. Even then, Ashe would wake Dedue and hold him close, or the other way around, and the two would drift back off into a dreamless sleep together. The worst nights weren’t so bad any more, and the good nights were even better. 

“Soooo, you and Dedue, huh?”

Ashe spluttered, choking on his drink. Right. He had joined Sylvain and Ingrid for dinner after their training earlier. 

“_Sylvain!_” Ingrid whacked the side of his head, maybe a bit too hard, “I’m sorry about him, Ashe.” Ashe waved her off, still coughing up a bit of watered-down wine, “Are you alright?”

“T-Thanks Ingrid. I’m fine, it just went down the wrong pipe!” Sylvain cocked an eyebrow, “We’re not… It’s not like that! Where did you even get that idea?”

“Really? Because I swear I’ve seen you going into his room late at night and not coming out until morning.” He winked. Ingrid glared daggers into the ginger’s side, but Ashe cut her off before she could start to reprimand Sylvain again.

“We’re just sleeping together....” Ashe flushed. Sylvain’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

_Oh._

“You little _minx_, you!”

“Oh, n-no! We’re just sharing a bed-,” Ashe sunk into his hands, “Ugh, no, that’s just as bad.”

“Ah, well, Ashe... it’s okay if you two are, um…” Ingrid looked away, “Just be safe, alright?”

“No, no it’s…” Ashe sighed, “I haven’t been sleeping well since, um… Since I got attacked. And it helps to have him there, you know? He’s… Dedue’s a really kind friend.”

“Ashe... You don’t really think…” Ingrid and Sylvain shared a look. What exactly was she implying?

“What?” Ashe blinked.

Sylvain let out a low whistle. “Sleeping in the same bed isn’t really like, a friend thing, Ashe.”

“C-Caspar told me that he sleeps with Linhardt during thunderstorms!” Ashe squeaked, “They’re just friends!”

“No, Ashe, they’re one-hundred percent fuck-” Ingrid jabbed him with an elbow, “Ow!”

“Ashe, have you considered that maybe Dedue thinks of you as more than just a friend?

Dedue? Well, Ashe certainly, _wishfully_ thought of Dedue as more than just a friend, but to think of him feeling the same… He had been a kind friend, remarkably kind, even. Dedue brought him tea and flowers and held him whenever he asked. He cooked him food and stayed with him through the nights. He’d told Ashe he was beautiful and combed through his hair. He even bandaged his wounds when Ashe couldn’t possibly bear to look at himself. Dedue was perfect and handsome and kind and Ashe could easily lose himself in all the little smiles and gentle touches that he always wished would turn into more! Though, Dedue had already given him the moon, as if all he ever had to do was ask. Did Dedue feel the same?

Well… Maybe he did? Maybe Ashe had gotten so lost in his fantasies that he forgot to look at the tangible world in front of him. But looking now, Sylvain and Ingrid made a good point. A very good, realistic, and glaringly obvious point that maybe, just maybe, they’d stepped beyond normal friend things.

“Ashe?” Ingrid waved a hand in front of his unfinished sweet buns.

“I think you broke him, Ingrid.”

Oh, Goddess, Dedue definitely felt the same.

* * *

Later that night, Ashe quietly slipped into Dedue’s room. A nightly ritual at this point. 

“I’ve made tea if you would like some.” Ah. Ginger-scented steam rose from a ceramic teapot on the desk. Ashe had hardly noticed. Dedue’s room always smelled of ginger and other spices. Ashe could pick out cardamom from the pods he dried by the fire last week, and the deceptively sweet scent of saffron Dedue kept in his desk for special occasions. But ginger was always the strongest, like Dedue himself emitted it rather than his dried stores of tea.

Ashe poured himself a cup, nearly scalding himself when his hands began to tremble. Why was he nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous. Dedue’s room had become essentially an extension of his own at this point.

“Are you alright?” A rough palm brushed up against his shoulder. Dedue took the teapot from him, setting it back on the desk. A simple touch, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the slightest contact set Ashe’s pale skin prickling with gooseflesh. Okay, he was nervous, still a little jittery from the conclusion he drew earlier.

“Ah, yes.” Ashe smiled. Nothing out of the ordinary, he reminded himself, “I’m fine.” Dedue seemed unconvinced, but he dropped the subject. He poured himself another cup of tea and sat back on the bed. Today they would talk, then. Talking was alright, even if it was mostly idle chatter. Dedue always knew what to say, whether it was about the Professor’s lessons, what other students had been cooking on their kitchen shifts, or Ashe’s slightly muddled retelling of knights’ tales he’d found in the library. On the best nights, Dedue would regale him with the Duscur legends Ashe always badgered him for, or simple memories of his home, which was slightly less mythical but interesting all the same. Dedue’s home sounded cozy. Ashe wished he could visit one day and meet the family he spoke so highly of, but the wish itself was faulty. Dedue might not be the man he presently was without losing so much, and Ashe certainly wouldn’t have met him. 

Still, if Ashe could choose… He would choose for Dedue never to have lost his village, for the whole tragedy never to have happened. The butterfly would flap its wings and Dedue would live a happy life cooking with his mother and sister. Ashe would still have Christophe and Lonato never would have rebelled against the church. Everyone would be happier and more alive that way, even if they wouldn’t have each other, and though it hurt to think about, Ashe would choose Dedue’s happiness if he could.

Dedue’s voice had a near-magical power to put Ashe at ease. He very rarely spoke at length, but Ashe did all he could to encourage Dedue when he did. When they did both finish their cups of tea and settle under the blankets, Ashe’s heart danced around in his chest. Well, more than usual, since it always did that around the Duscur man. Nothing odd had happened. Ashe didn’t notice any hopelessly pining stares - not from Dedue anyway. No unexpected confessions came out over tea. Dedue sat back against the pillows, flipping through a tactics book the Professor assigned as their weekly reading. Ashe cuddled into his side, peering over at the text while he toyed with a few locks of white hair. This was their ritual, the same as always, yet Ashe felt different.

Despite his gratitude, Ashe didn’t want to settle any longer. He couldn’t help but want more knowing that Dedue wanted the same. He knew, right? For a fact? Surely Dedue wouldn’t hold someone else like Sylvain this close. Definitely not Felix. The prince… Well, Dedue would probably anything for Dimitri, including this if he asked, but still… Sylvain must know about these things, even if they were both men. It couldn’t be all that different. And Dedue… Well, Dedue called him _beautiful_.

No, that was nearly a moon ago, and Ashe must have been a mess. He probably would have said anything Ashe needed to hear, and he was thoughtful enough to know exactly what those words would be. Dedue wasn’t a liar, but if it meant comforting Ashe, maybe he would tell a few white lies. And what if traditions and affections in Duscur were different, or if Dedue hadn’t really mastered the language and meant something else? Like beautiful but totally in just a friend way? Not that he’d ever miscommunicated before, but it must be a possibility, because the possibility - the _probability_ that Dedue felt the same, it just… It felt too good to be true.

But also too _true_ to be wrong.

“Hey… Dedue?”

“Ashe.” 

_Come on, Ashe._

“When you said I could touch you however I liked…” Dedue flushed, glancing over at him with pensive turquoise eyes, “D-Did you mean it?” Ashe could feel Dedue’s shoulder tense beneath his head. So he _did_ realize how it sounded. Ashe began to cobble together a list of ways to brush it off as a joke until a small nod from Dedue interrupted his frantic thoughts.

_Goddess. Okay._

“Okay… C-close your eyes please.” Dedue set the book aside, calmly shutting his eyes as requested. How could he be so calm? Still and sturdy as a mountain, and just as silent, too. 

_Not like you’ve dreamed of doing this for the past month…_

Ashe timidly rested his hand over Dedue’s chest, reveling in how his pulse jumped and raced under his touch. Dedue sat motionless and stoic as a statue unless you knew where to look. And Ashe did. Unflappable as he may seem, his body was so, so damningly expressive to Ashe’s eyes. Ashe watched carefully for the stutter in his throat and the tiny part of his lips as a quick breath stumbled out when Ashe’s hand first pressed into his chest. He noted the blood rushing to his cheeks and the way Dedue’s fingers curled into the blankets, stilling himself as Ashe drew close.

Of course, Dedue’s anticipation could only hope to match Ashe’s own. For all of Dedue’s quiet tells, Ashe had his own. His hands trembled. Was he really going to do this? It was just a simple caress. Undeniably intimate, but he could still back down. It would be awkward, and Ashe would try to justify it as mere curiosity. Dedue would let his flimsy lie slide and never pry. No. Ashe wanted more.

_Come on, Ashe, you can do this._

Ashe closed the last few inches between them and pressed a shy kiss to the Duscur man’s cheek. 

“Thank you, Dedue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !
> 
> Far, far away, in a post-time skip modern AU, I think Dedue would wear reading glasses at night.


	10. Want

Goddess above.

Well, Ashe would thank her later. For now, he would content himself to drowning in the Duscur man and all he was. Ashe could die. Ashe could literally die right here, the happiest man in all of Fodlan if the last thing he felt would be the rough warmth of Dedue’s clean-shaven cheek on his own lips and his arm coiling around Ashe’s side. The smell of earth and mineralized bath oils, and the soft sigh that tumbled from Dedue’s lips... Perfection, all of it. He could just sink into his amber skin and stay here forever. 

But, um, no, he wouldn’t do that, because he had just _kissed_ Dedue for heaven’s sake, and oh, Goddess, what if he didn’t want it, and if he didn’t mean it like that, and what if Ashe was totally wrong and-

“May I open my eyes?" Dedue rumbled.

“Ah, um,” Ashe giggled, “Yes, I suppose you may.” Dedue hadn't rebuked his affections, per se, and that was a good sign. Still, Ashe couldn't help but feel a _touch_ nervous. This was uncharted territory, after all. But oh, how Ashe wished to chart it. He'd finally summoned the courage, so perhaps he could just revel in this rush for now. At least until Dedue spoke the words that would certainly crush him. Dedue’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Ashe’s own sage-colored orbs filled to the brim with worry and hope and every single emotion in between.

_‘I apologize if I have misled you, Ashe.’_ He might whisper, _‘I do not feel the same.’_  
Or maybe just…  
_‘You should go.’_ No, he wouldn’t be that cold, would he? Ashe steeled himself for the gentle refusal, for the repulsion Dedue would hide behind kind words and blank eyes. Yet…__

Dedue turned to face him, murky teal eyes filled with something hazy and foreign… A curious new message Ashe hadn’t yet learned to parse. Dry, padded fingers swept under his chin, tilting him upwards and drawing him ever so close. Dedue leaned in, just the slightest bit closer and closer until he halted, hesitating where his lips were just shy of Ashe’s own. Only a breath apart, really.

“Oh, Dedue…” Ashe balled one hand in his white cotton tunic and cradled Dedue’s cheek in the other. Doubt, maybe? Was that what clouded his eyes? Was that why he hesitated so when Ashe couldn’t give any clearer sign that he wanted this, that he wanted Dedue to hold him close and kiss him until the sun rose? 

But Dedue would never take anything without Ashe’s insistence. Sharing a bed, touching his hair, Goddess, it had even been a struggle to convince the Duscur man that he didn’t need to ask permission to take Ashe’s hand. As much as Ashe appreciated his chivalry, right now, he didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to pause and explain what he was doing and risk Dedue pulling away when he regained his senses. 

Ashe closed the distance once more, bringing their lips together. And this time - this time Dedue didn’t hesitate. His hands easily found Ashe’s waist, hoisting him up into the larger man’s lap. Ashe let out an embarrassing little noise, but he couldn’t find the presence of mind to care when Dedue leaned up into their kiss, guided by Ashe’s hands. And the kiss, the _kiss_! It was everything Ashe hoped for and more, as if Dedue pressed all the love of the past few moons into a single touch. Gentle, and wanting, and Goddess, so warm he could melt. And melt he would, savoring each spark of warmth until he was little but hot wax to be molded in Dedue’s careful hands.

* * *

Never without permission. Dedue couldn’t count all the lines he’d crossed now, but Ashe gazed so sweetly up at him. He beamed and laughed, and Dedue could see all the world in his eyes. Any man’s resolve would chip and fray at the seams. Dedue was not any man, but Ashe had a power over him like no other. He leaned closer, ever so close, and tilted his chin up, so he could feel Ashe’s unsteady breath across his lips. He could feel so much more too, if…

And yet, Dedue couldn’t do it. After all this time, all this affection, he would still wait for Ashe to move first. He could never be too sure. For his part, Ashe seemed to pick up on the reluctance and carry on where Dedue faltered. If Dedue could pinpoint the moment when his self-control shattered, it might have been when his name tumbled out in Ashe’s honey-sweet sighs and he tugged Dedue into an even sweeter kiss than before. Dedue forgot how to think. For once, he forgot to doubt and simply lost himself in the feeling.

Plush lips brushed against his own, slow, sweet, and feather-light. Dedue couldn’t help but lean and tilt to try and deepen the kiss, but this angle just wouldn’t do. He slid his hands into the small of Ashe’s back and the curve of his hips, perhaps a little too satisfied with himself when Ashe’s lips curled up in a shy smile. Dedue easily pulled the smaller man onto his lap, as though he had hollow bones. He was certainly light enough. 

Much better. The barest hint of ginger still burned on Ashe’s lips, though he tasted much, much sweeter than Dedue’s favored tea. It couldn’t have lasted but a second, yet time slowed to a crawl when Ashe carded through his hair until they parted, breathless and entranced. 

Doubt bubbled back up to the surface. He didn’t deserve this. Ashe hadn’t chosen Dedue, he chose his raft. If Ashe _had_ chosen Dedue, he would be the luckiest man on earth. He would take anything the silver-haired boy would give him, and cast all else aside, if only by the night. But Ashe had to _choose_ this, and he hadn’t.

“My apologies,” Dedue frowned. Ashe was only thanking him. How long had he known? Dedue glanced at the comforter, anywhere but the moon come down to earth, offering to grant each one of his wishes in turn.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ashe trembled under his hands. Ah, his hands. Dedue pulled them away. He gathered the nerve to speak again, “D-do you, um, not want… this?”

_‘Do you not want me?’ _  
The unspoken doubt. A wholly unreasonable doubt, as Ashe would know if he could see himself.

“I do.” Dedue tucked a few silver locks behind his ear, “But you needn't indulge me.”

“...Indulge you?”

“You owe me nothing, Ashe.” Dedue’s throat went dry. It was true. Ashe owed him nothing; no thanks were in order. Still, he… Shamefully, Dedue wished he could hold onto this moment but a little longer.

* * *

“Owe you?” Ashe blinked, “Oh, Dedue, is that what you think this is about?”

“Is it… not?” Dedue looked genuinely confused. Ashe couldn’t help but giggle. For all the care and thought he put into, well, everything, it was frankly bewildering that he didn’t understand Ashe now. Dedue always knew what he needed, even without Ashe saying the words, but now…

Ashe thought he had been _too_ obvious, in all honesty. The endlessly longing looks, shy little touches, and cuddling close whenever he got the chance, but perhaps he’d been pining so long that Ashe’s affections faded into the background. No, Ashe had just kissed him, after all, and not a shy little peck on the cheek, either, but a real _kiss_ on the lips! Dedue had to know!

“You think I don’t, er, desire you?” Ashe flushed, “Because I do… I really do like you, Dedue!”

Dedue shook his head. “I have been by your side quite often these past weeks. You may conflate-”

It wasn’t that Ashe hadn’t been obvious; Ashe made himself perfectly clear. Dedue just refused to believe it, or more accurately, he refused to believe in himself or that Ashe could possibly want him. No matter, Ashe would prove it!

“I am very grateful for your help. You were always so gentle with me, even when I… Well, when things were difficult.” Ashe smiled, “And I wouldn’t mind you doting on me for the rest of our days.” He traced a thumb over Dedue’s lips. “But I did want you before that, you know. _You_ are what I want, Dedue, not just your kindness.”

Dedue’s eyes widened.

“I was so worried that you wouldn’t want me in the same way… After everything.” Ashe laughed, fighting the tears budding at the corners of his eyes, “But you were just too kind. You said I was beautiful, and…”

“You _are_ beautiful.” Dedue brushed away a few stray, dewy drops. Ashe trapped his hand against his cheek as he laced their fingers together. 

“You are the only one kind enough to want me after-”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” And it was true, or Dedue believed it to be. Ashe couldn’t find a lie in his eyes.

“But you are the only one I want, Dedue.” Ashe pressed a kiss to his forehead, “And I… I wish you could see that - how wonderful you are, you know?”

* * *

“Even telling you now, I wonder if you’ll ever actually believe how much I want you.” Ashe sighed.

“I…” Dedue was at a loss for words.

“But maybe I can show you?” Ashe bit his lip, “Maybe I can try?” Cool fingers slid up his neck, weaving into his hair. Dedue shivered, partly at his icy skin, mostly at the sheer intimacy. 

“Ashe...” Dedue melted into his touch. Ashe could do whatever he pleased, and Dedue would obey. Admittedly, he hoped that whatever Ashe pleased included more of _this_.

“If you don’t believe it yet, that’s okay.” Ashe drew his chin upwards, gazing down at him with a warm smile that crinkled at his eyes, “Just pretend until you really do.” He leaned down, meeting Dedue in a deep kiss. Still a little timid, still trembling under Dedue’s rough hands. But Ashe’s words were true. This affection… it had to be true. Dedue let his eyes slide shut. He let his hands wander and tug Ashe closer in his lap, grounding him with firm hands on his hips.

“Do you…” Ashe pulled away, panting through puffy pink lips. “Do you want the same?”

“Yes.” Dedue breathed, slightly incredulous “Is that much not clear?”

“Say it.” Ashe whispered, “I want to know.”

“I desire you, Ashe,” He nestled into Ashe’s neck, laying a tender kiss on the speckled ivory skin there. If Ashe wanted to know, if he wanted proof, Dedue would gladly demonstrate his devotion in every way he could. “I wish to stay at your side. I am yours if you would have me.”

“Yes,” Ashe shivered, “Goddess, yes.” He tangled his fingers deeper into Dedue’s coarse hair. “I’m yours too, Dedue… I have been for a while.”

“As have I.”

“Ah, I wish I’d said something.” A heavy tear escaped, trickling down his cheek. His voice wavered, “If I…”

“What’s wrong?” Dedue righted himself, wiping Ashe’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. Ashe sank into his shoulder. He gripped at Dedue’s tunic.

“I know it’s silly, b-but,” Ashe’s voice cracked, “I, um… I wanted you to be my first.” Dedue drew in a sharp breath. Given enough time, Dedue might be able to comfortably accept Ashe’s affection, but to think that he would want him in that way as well - that he had wanted Dedue in that way…

* * *

“That is still possible, if you wish it.” Still possible? No, he… he wasn’t whole anymore. Not in that way, at least. Ashe didn’t know if he could truly be intimate with Dedue, now or ever, not with the ghostly scars littering his body and the demons plaguing his mind. But… He still thought about it. When he thought about Dedue, it was all gentle touches and sweet kisses, warm hands around his waist and whispered praises. Nothing like them.

“Dedue…” Ashe trembled, “They…”

“They did not make love to you,” Dedue combed through his hair, “They do not count.”

“You… would still want me in that way?” 

“It is difficult not to want you.” Ashe laughed, delighted by the way the Duscur man’s pulse quickened after his confession. 

“R-Really now…” When the silver-haired boy pulled back, Dedue burned beet red.

“You are quite beautiful.” Flustered as he might be, when Dedue’s turquoise eyes met his own, they were only genuine and loving. No fear, no lies.

“Thank you. I’m really glad you still think so.” Ashe blushed, “And, ah, you should know that I feel the same. B-but… I don’t know if I can…”

“That is alright.”

“It might take me a long time to…”

“I will wait as long as you wish.”

“It might be a really long time… What if it took me a hundred years?” Ashe frowned, “I c-couldn’t give you… Would you still wait?”

“I would ask the gods to let me live so long,” Dedue chuckled, low baritone, “And if you still did not want anything of the sort, that would be alright.” He took one of Ashe’s hands in his own and raised it to his lips. “You are enough, Ashe.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the pale digits, “More than.”

“Goddess,” Ashe wiped a tear from his eye, “What did I do to deserve you?” That look again, guilty almost. Ashe pressed a finger to Dedue’s lips before his doubt could tumble out.

“And don’t you dare say I deserve better, because there isn’t anyone else.” Dedue gave a small smile, clearly still having some difficulty accepting the compliment. It was alright, they could work on that. All the more reason for Ashe to kiss him again. And again and again, until he believed, and some more after that too.

“We should get some rest.” Dedue leaned over the desk, blowing out the last embers of their candle.

* * *

Ashe sighed softly, snuggling into his chest as they huddled under the covers. Although he did this every night, it felt more intimate knowing that he wanted Dedue close because he wanted _Dedue_ and no one else. They had plenty of time. Dedue had plenty of time to accept Ashe’s words and to show him that he felt the same. There was no need for panic or rush, no need to move quickly. Slow and steady, just as always. Still…

“Ashe?” He gazed up with sleepy eyes. Dedue fought to keep his voice even, “May I kiss you again?” Ashe giggled.

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the last few, but I didn't want to combine it with another scene.
> 
> Happy soft boys c:


	11. Chai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics at the end indicate the Duscurian language.
> 
> If you like good vibes and Blue Lions, come join us at https://discord.gg/c5TzG44

Though the unease plaguing the monastery faded, it never quite vanished. They knew now that their enemies were not simple bandits, but mysterious fiends sprouting from the shadows. Danger constantly loomed over the monastery, but the students found a way to muddle through, month after month, mission after mission. Scary as it might be, it was the monastery’s duty to help people, so they would have to stay strong!

* * *

Ashe’s bones ached. Ah, a full day of training will do that. In the morning, he practiced archery with Ignatz and some of the other Golden Deer students. Mercedes tagged along, at the Professor’s request. His arrows flew true as ever, but he still couldn’t match Claude’s aim on the moving targets. After lunch, he headed back to the grounds to spar with Ingrid. His lance form still wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. The Professor’s guidance certainly helped. With a little more practice, Ashe felt like he might really get the hang of it! At the end of the month, all the students would face off in a grand battle to show their skills, and Ashe had a lot to be proud of. Still, the uninterrupted training left him beat, so Ashe made his way to the bathhouse to decompress.

Each step up the stairs reminded him that he could work on his lower guard. Ingrid got him pretty good on his flank a few times, and the vulneraries didn’t take away enough of the pain for him to forget that lesson just yet. The steam greeted him, ever so welcoming and warm, even as he stripped down to his towel alone. Ashe rushed past the mirrors. No need to look. He took his lavender soap bar from the stash, marveling at how many more exotic scents and exquisite, carved floral soaps piled up in the cache - all far too lavish for his skin. The bathhouse tiles glittered, still wet from whoever took their morning baths. Empty - oh! Not quite empty. Felix relaxed in one of the baths at the back of the room, laying his head back against a folded towel.

“Ah, Felix, do you mind if I join you?” The swordsman sighed, nodding into his makeshift pillow. By his lack of reaction, he must have noticed Ashe entering the bathhouse. Or he just didn’t scare easily. Ashe would have been frightened by a sudden voice popping up out of thin air, but then, Ashe _did_ scare easily. Maybe they didn’t tell ghost stories in Fraldarius. 

“Fine, but no idle chatter.” Ashe made his way to the bath, “Careful, it’s hot.” Ashe dipped a finger in, quickly pulling it back with a hiss. Hot was an understatement - scalding, more like. He slowly sank his feet into the tub, acclimating once inch of skin at a time. Painful, but only for a moment. In time, the hot water would ease his sore muscles.

Ashe sank into the tub, all the way this time. He wet the soap and began to rub frothy bubbles into his hair. Felix reached for his own bar of soap. Ashe should have noticed that it was pine-scented with small bits of salt pressed into the bar. Far too fancy for a commoner, but almost too understated for a noble. Ashe didn’t notice that, though, because he was far, far too busy taking in the thick snake of violet bruises coiling around Felix’s wrist. 

“Felix?” Ashe swallowed. The bruises were so… so purple. And when he looked past the simmering soap bubbles on the surface, there were more. They must have been recent, like, Felix hadn’t even gone to see a healer recent. Like, Felix had bruises on his wrists and sides and shut himself away in the bathhouse recent. Like... “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m not bleeding out, last I checked.” Felix snapped. Alright, that was fair. That was pretty open-ended, and this was a hard topic, and Felix was, well, Felix. But… Ashe couldn’t let this go, either. He had Dedue, who waited and cared for him so tenderly as he healed, even when Ashe pushed him away. Felix didn’t have a Dedue, so Ashe would try his best.

“Your wrists, I mean…” Ashe stumbled over the words, not quite sure what to say or how to say it. “Um, you don’t need to tell me anything, but I’m here for you Felix, alright? If there’s anything you need...” Felix stared at him, molten amber gaze unreadable.

“I’m fine.” He sank lower in the tub, fixing his eyes to the tiles on the ceiling. “It’s not like what happened to you.” Ashe let out the breath he’d secretly been holding. Good, the bruises were probably from sparring or something, then. Ashe was just reading too far into things. It wasn’t like what happened to him. Wait, what?

“You… knew?”

“I’ll never understand why everyone presumes I’m blind.” Felix sighed, “You flinched every time Sylvain touched you for weeks.”

“Do the others know?” Ashe trembled, despite the warmth of the tub. They all had to know, he must have been too obvious. Goddess, why wasn’t he a better liar? It was so difficult knowing that Dedue knew, if _everyone_ knew, how would he face them again?

“I’m guessing you’ve already spoken to Dedue. The boar is clueless, Sylvain’s an idiot… I haven’t told anyone if that’s what you’re asking.” Okay, so maybe not everyone, but Felix knew, and that alone tied his stomach into knots. 

“Ashe…” Felix scowled like he’d tasted something sweet. “Ugh.” Ashe disgusted him, didn’t he… He should leave. He should go and curl up into a ball somewhere. Dedue would find him and pull him back out, into his arms, and it would be okay. But for now, Ashe just wanted to disappear. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Felix, I should-” 

“Shut up. I’m trying to-” Felix groaned, “No one would think less of you for it, it doesn’t make you less of a knight or whatever the fuck.”

“Oh…” Ashe blinked, stunned by the… comfort? Was Felix comforting him? Yeah, he was! Or trying to. “I… I see. Thank you, Felix - for saying that. Um, that was really kind!”

“Stop looking at me like that.” Felix frowned, “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Sorry!” Ashe smiled. Had Felix known when he taught Ashe how to brawl, or did he learn later? Maybe that was why he was so kind at the time. Felix wasn’t mean-spirited, really, he just didn’t care to hold his tongue. Sometimes, that meant he could say some pretty hurtful things, but Ashe knew him well enough to take it in stride now. “So, was it a sparring accident or something? The bruises, I mean.”

“Ah, no.” Felix brushed a few wet indigo locks aside, revealing a string of reddened welts trailing up his neck, all the way to his collarbone. Ashe gasped, probably loud enough that Felix could hear him clear across the tub. Marks so loving and possessive all at once. A reminder, a promise to the skin underneath. Oh, Goddess, Ashe suddenly really, really wanted Dedue to do that to him. One day.

“It was…alright, actually” Felix coughed, moving his hair back into place, “Just complicated, I suppose.”

“Oh, um,” Ashe was red down to his chest, definitely from the hot bath and nothing else. “Do you want to talk about it?

“I think I may rather die than continue this conversation.”

* * *

The sun dipped down into the trees, painting the monastery with a scarlet glow. He had a few scarce moments to rest his bones before dinner. Ashe tumbled onto his bed, silver hair still damp from the bathhouse. No sooner than he had settled into the blankets, a knock sounded at the door. Ashe groaned, stumbling back to his feet. Just a few moments to rest… He was tired! He cracked open the door. 

Dedue stood in the archway, framed so beautifully by the waning sunlight. Light glinted off the gold trim of his uniform jacket, mostly hidden under a soft blue cloak. Softer than it looked, Ashe knew after spending nights huddled up in its woolen lining. The evening glow rose all the way to his hair, faintly orange in contrast to his stern, gleaming teal eyes. He should ask Ignatz to paint him a picture, though he wouldn’t have very long to capture the moment. Ashe should probably say something, Ashe should probably invite him in, but he forgot the words.

“Ashe.” Dedue spoke up, “I apologize for not coming to see you sooner. The Professor has kept us quite busy.” Dedue slipped into Ashe’s room, taking shelter from the chilly evening air. Ah, right, it was cold, and it wouldn’t do to leave Dedue outside like that. Ashe shut the door behind them. He was early! Usually, Ashe didn’t see him until dinner, or afterward if the Professor took their meals together.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Dedue.” Ashe reached up to place a shy kiss on his jaw, the farthest he could reach even on the tips of his toes. “I’m happy to see you at all, really.”

“It is your birthday, is it not?” Dedue leaned down to give him a proper kiss - on the lips, too! And without asking! Slowly, he was growing a little more confident. Dedue was starting to believe this was real. Ashe was getting there too. “I wish to give you a gift. I would like to show you something.”

“What is it?” Ashe looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder.

“A recipe from Duscur. It is simple, but difficult to master.”

“I’d love that, Dedue.”

* * *

The kitchens cleared out at dinnertime - the meal had already been cooked, after all. Most students ate in the dining hall, mingling with their friends and the monastery staff. Dedue insisted on cooking a proper meal, something Duscur-inspired like Ashe preferred. He insisted on cooking for Ashe alone - for just the two of them to share in the kitchen. He didn’t need to insist, really. Ashe could hardly imagine a more perfect gift. Here, he had Dedue all to himself.

After dinner, they set about Dedue’s gift. Ashe would learn to cook something from Duscur! He had been quite vague about the exact nature of the recipe, only something sweet. Dedue laid out an array of spices. Cinnamon, cloves, cardamom… A lemon, milk, fine sugar. A pie, maybe? Or a tart, or even a curry! Dedue’s spices were so versatile, and he was a master of mixing them in ways Ashe could never think of on his own. Ginger, peppercorn, dried black tea leaves.

“Oh, Dedue,” Ashe beamed, “Is this the milk tea you told me about?”

“That is correct.”

“You remembered!” Ashe flushed. Of course, Dedue always remembered the little things - his silly requests for each story and recipe, and which flowers and treats he liked best. His birthday, too!

“That is the least I can do, Ashe.”

“Thank you for showing me.” He smiled, measuring out the spices to Dedue’s specifications. “You’re really good with spices, Dedue. I can never quite seem to get the balance right.”

“It may take you some time to become acquainted with their flavors.” Dedue poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil over the hearth.

“Still, I can never make the cardamom as flavorful as you do.”

“You must crush the pods to let the flavors out.” He was a wizard in that way. Whatever Dedue did to the spices, Ashe could never seem to mirror. He could taste the spices Dedue used in his dishes, but no matter how much he used, Ashe’s food always tasted bland in comparison. Food in Gaspard used a lot more cream and butter, sometimes wine, though Ashe usually stayed away from cooking with it. Their spices were a whisper, where Dedue’s sang out with pride.

“Crush it?” Ashe tilted his head. That seemed… violent. And Dedue’s cardamom pods were always left whole.

“I will show you.” Dedue stood behind Ashe, easily seeing over his figure. His chest pressed up against Ashe’s back, flush together so that he could feel each of Dedue’s steady breaths and the rumble deep in his chest when he spoke. Ashe felt so small like this, so fully encompassed by Dedue’s powerful form. It wasn’t a bad sort of small, though. No, he felt cozy, as though he were wrapped up in a bundle of fleece blankets - and Dedue would make an excellent blanket. Dedue took Ashe’s hands in his own, guiding him to draw a large chef’s knife from the block. Dedue dropped one of the dry cardamom’s pods in Ashe’s hands.

“Place it under the knife.” Dedue murmured into his ear, so warm, soft, and impossibly close. He laid it under the knife, allowing Dedue to move his hand and guide the flat of the chef’s knife over the pale-green husk. Dedue’s hands were so strong, but he barely pressed down on the pod before Ashe felt it give way under the blade. The scent of cardamom drifted up from the cutting board, more fragrant than ever.

“Oh! That really did help!” Dedue released Ashe’s hands. He’d peeled garlic like that before, Dedue didn’t really need to show him, he could have just said it was the same technique. But then Ashe wouldn’t get to feel his hands and his chest and his voice like that… And based on Dedue’s arm curling around Ashe’s waist, he knew that too.

“We will make another recipe as well.” Dedue grabbed a pot from the racks above, placing it onto the stove grates. “Sweets that my mother always kept in the house. First, bring the milk to a boil. Fill the pot halfway. We will add the lemon once it is heated.”

Ashe poured some of the milk into the pot. Dedue pulled away to stoke the fires beneath the grate. Ashe missed his embrace, but it would come back soon enough. Ashe would make sure of that.

“Lemon… Dedue, won’t this curdle the milk?”

“Correct.” Dedue sliced the lemon in half. “But that is intended.” Curdled milk, huh? Well, Ashe had seen it once before as a cheese, but as a sweet? On its own? Maybe as a filling… Well, Dedue was the master. They crushed up the rest of the spices as the milk began to bubble up into a soft boil. Dedue poured their spices into the kettle of steaming water.

“Oh, Dedue!” Ashe peered over the pot. “The milk is boiling now.”

“Good. Add the lemon juice. Slowly, or you may lose control.” Ashe squeezed the lemon into the pot, careful to catch any stray seeds slipping out in a small sieve. Slowly, little curds started to break away from the whey. When it all separated, Ashe strained the curds into a cheesecloth and washed away the whey and lemon. Dedue helped him press it down and tie the cloth tight to strain away the water. Later, they would knead it into a dough with the sugar, so it couldn’t be too wet! Maybe it was sort of like a pasta or dumpling dough. He still couldn’t really picture it all coming together, but he would follow Dedue’s lead. 

They settled into that familiar silence, communicating with touches and gestures rather than words. The world fell away, and it was just Dedue. Ashe, Dedue, and the kitchen. They could stay like this forever… They wouldn’t, of course. Ashe had to become a knight, and Dedue had His Highness... Maybe he could join them in Fhirdiad one day. Until then, Ashe would try not to think of their uncertain future and the possibility of them parting forever. Dedue poured the tea into two mugs, mixing in milk and sugar. Sweeter for Ashe, as usual.

‘Chai’, he called it. The tea tasted sweet, but not too sweet. Spicy, but not in an uncomfortable way. Cinnamon and ginger prickled at the edge of his tongue, cut by the milk and sugar. Cardamom, stronger and sweeter than he could ever muster. All the spices mingled together, warming Ashe up all the way down to his chest. He decided he quite liked it, maybe even over his favored mint tea as the weather grew colder and colder.

“In Duscur, we used a different type of sugar.” Dedue took a sip from his mug, “Though it does not change the flavor too much.”

“Hey, Dedue?” Sea-green eyes met his own, “Thank you for showing me. I know I can’t make it exactly like it’s supposed to be, but I hope I can make it taste a little like home.”

“It will,” Dedue smiled, ever so slight, and yet just the tiniest curl of his lips always managed to send Ashe’s heart sprinting. “As long as you are the cook.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn.” Ashe pressed a kiss to his collarbone through the cotton. He wanted more. Of course, he always wanted more of Dedue, but he was far too tired to reach up and take it. As if Dedue had read his mind - and well, he probably could at this point - his arm curled around Ashe’s hips, lifting him up onto the countertop.

“Much better.” Ashe hummed, pulling him close. He could still taste the cloves lingering on Dedue’s lips, muted and yet so vivid all at once, just like Dedue. He could draw it out, he could take all the time he wanted leisurely kissing Dedue, but there was so much of him left to explore! Ashe pulled away, tracing his fingers along Dedue’s neck and shoulders. He slipped under the tunic’s collar, testing Dedue’s skin under his hands. Firm, rougher than his own, but smoother than it looked. Dedue shivered but didn’t pull away - Ashe counted it a successful venture!

“How are your hands still cold?” Dedue asked, incredulous.

“They’re always this way!” Ashe blushed, “It’s better for folding pastries!”

“Am I a pastry to you?”

“I suppose you are quite sweet.” Ashe hands brushed upwards to cup his cheeks. “And my hands seem to work well on you.” Color bloomed across Dedue’s cheeks, vibrant even in the dim kitchen firelight. Hmm, what if...

* * *

“Hey, Ashe! You in here!?” A bolt of blue burst through the door, yelling into the kitchen. Caspar, of the Black Eagles. Holding Ashe like this would certainly seem... untoward. Dedue moved to pull away, but Ashe kept his hands firm on his shoulders, anchoring him so close. What was he doing? Why...

“What is it, Caspar?” Ashe grumbled. Though his tone was nearly as kind as ever, Dedue noted the stitch of irritation in his brow, likely mirroring Dedue’s own. Caspar probably wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, uh…” Caspar seemed to grow a shred of self-awareness. “L-Lin said his blood didn’t have enough sugar in it to train or something, so I was gonna get him something sweet! And you know all that stuff about cooking and sweets, so...”

“There’s some sweet buns in the dining hall,” Ashe’s thumb trailed along his cheekbone. “Bring him one of those, I’m a little busy. They should still be fresh if you hurry.” Ashe pressed a kiss to his temple. Dedue’s breath caught in his throat. Such affection was not new, but in front of others? 

“O-okay, thanks, Ashe!” Caspar squeaked, barreling out of the kitchen.

“He could have knocked…” Ashe sighed. Tired, perhaps, but… Ashe seemed unfazed by the fact that he was still holding Dedue close. Caspar was likely harmless. Still, he would only cause Ashe trouble in the long run, even if he refused to see it. 

“You do not mind them knowing?”

“Of course not, Dedue. Um, if that’s okay with you, I mean.” Ashe bit his lip, “Sorry... I didn’t think that you might want to keep it secret.” Ah, no. Dedue would keep his love secret for Ashe’s sake, though he longed for a world in which he wouldn’t have to.

“That is alright,” Dedue frowned. Another world - not this one. “It is only-”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now, stop.” Ashe gave him a stern look, “I’m not ashamed of you, I could never be.” Dedue struggled for the words. He was many things, a man of Duscur chief among them. He knew the things they said about His Highness behind their backs, and he was the prince of Faerghus - his liege. What would they say about Ashe, his lover in earnest? Ashe broke him out of his thoughts with a kiss. 

“I don’t _care_ what anyone thinks, or what you think they’ll think. I’m proud to have you by my side. Anyone who can’t understand that… They’re not worth our time, okay?”

“You would tell the others?”

“Yes,” Ashe breathed, “I’m yours, Dedue… I want them to know that. And that I get you all to myself, so hands off!”

“All to yourself, hm?”

“That’s right,” Ashe giggled, “Not even His Highness gets to have you like I do. Although...” Indecision flickered through his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just - I’m not quite sure what to call you, Dedue.” He laughed, light and airy as a glass chime. “I know it sounds silly, but in the books, it’s usually ‘my dearest’ or ‘my lover’, or something really specific to the heroes. It’s nice in writing, but I don’t think I could really say something like that out loud.”

“I see. That is quite a predicament. You may call me anything you like.”

“Hmm…” Ashe’s eyes lit up, then dulled. He chewed his lip. “Ah, no…”

“What is it, my dearest?” Ashe stifled another laugh. He was right, it did sound a tad too flowery to his ears. Not unbearably so, though perhaps such poetic gushing was best reserved for another time.

“Nothing, I just wondered - if it’s not too much… Is there something you would say in Duscur? In your language, that is.”

“There are similar words.” Quite a few words came to mind, in truth. Dedue had already thought of them many times as they lie beside each other at night. Flowery words, as cheesy in the Duscur language as Ashe’s own suggestions. Words that revealed the true depth of Dedue’s feelings, and words that Dedue had never even dreamed of hearing from Ashe’s lips.

“Perhaps there is one. _‘My heart’_.” A simple endearment, but not a light one. The words his mother and father used to trade in the evening light as she cooked and he cleaned, and the kids played games by the hearth. A selfish choice, for Ashe would not know how much weight the words carried in his heart. One day, Dedue would tell him.

“Ah, say it again,” Ashe beamed, trying to wrap his tongue around the words. “Slower, so I know how.” Ashe set his mind to pronouncing it right. His eyes shone so bright with determination. The words echoed between the two of them until he was satisfied with his own inflection. _‘My heart, my heart, my heart.’_

“Careful, or the tea will grow cold, _my heart._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sweets recipe is sandesh! (https://www.cookwithmanali.com/sandesh-bengali-sweet/)
> 
> It's nice, and one of the only Indian sweets I can eat because I don't really have much of a sweet tooth.
> 
> Happy late birthday, Ashe! The violet candle I've been burning is almost gone. :(


	12. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endings are always hard; so are new beginnings.

Crisp, winter air blew down into the monastery, coldly reprimanding any creature unlucky enough not to rest in hibernation. Delicate plants left to the elements would begin to freeze, though any such plants in the monastery would be safe within the spells carved into the greenhouse walls. Dedue had plenty of experience with the cold. As a child, he spent many winters wading through the snow, pulling sleds up the hills for he and his sister to ride back down into the warm embrace of firelight and spiced cocoa. 

Dedue’s childhood was not so unique - most children in the Kingdom must have grown up in the snow and winds and would be hardened to the elements, or so he assumed. Ashe grew up in the flatlands of Gaspard and hadn’t quite adjusted to the harsh chill each gust blew into the courtyard. He huddled into his hood or hid in Dedue’s cloaks whenever the breeze picked up. Of course, Dedue wouldn’t complain. Ethereal Moon, they called it in Fódlan. A fitting name, for when glinting bits of snow swirled around Ashe in the winter winds, he certainly looked the part of an angel. Rebelling against the cold, they made warmer dinners and much, much more of the spiced tea from Duscur. Ashe became something of an expert on Duscur sweets, or the few that Dedue remembered making for his sister - even then, he hadn’t had much of a sweet tooth. Perhaps the winter wasn’t so bad. In some ways, it felt even warmer than the summer months and sweeter than the spring.

Truthfully, Dedue had been quite surprised when Ashe asked him to the ball, nervously clutching a small bouquet of mixed flowers. He figured his agreement was obvious - a given, really - and that sort of thing had been decided long ago, when they confessed their feelings for one another, then cemented when Ashe quietly brought their relationship into the light. After Caspar interrupted them in the kitchen, Ashe made a habit of reassuring Dedue with gentle, open touches. Tiny things, really. He rested his head against Dedue’s chest, or laid his hand on top of Dedue’s own, letting their fingers intertwine. Nothing he hadn’t done before, only now, he grew bold enough to hold his hand in the dining hall and take his arm as they walked to the greenhouse.

By Duscur standards, they weren’t even properly courting - Dedue had not yet given him a proper, lasting token of his love. The Blue Lions were kind. Dimitri congratulated him, though the conversation had been awkward, to say the least. Annette peppered Ashe with questions - romantic ones about how they got together, if they went on dates, and all other sorts of prying details that Ashe would bashfully reveal over their study sessions in the library. Felix, for his part, bit back whatever urge he had to make a rude comment. Dedue didn’t mind. Ashe could share whatever he liked, though he left out the tenderest parts of their relationship - the tears and nightmares they shared in the darkest nights, and the silent tongue they spoke to each other - the parts Dedue saved for Ashe and no one else.

In honesty, Dedue remembered little of the ball itself. Ashe danced with most of the house’s female students, Dedue, and even Felix, their representative for the White Heron Cup. Ashe clumsily followed Annette’s lead, and really, she was no more graceful. Each of them took the missteps in stride. Ashe’s smile shone as bright as ever, only growing when he pulled Dedue aside for another dance.

“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this!” Ashe fidgeted with the golden ties on his dress uniform “I never really learned the steps - or, not as well as everyone else here.” Dedue held Ashe steady, guiding him along the floor in steps Dimitri insisted he learn long ago. As any matter of court etiquette, Dedue had taken to it readily, mastering the steps so as not to disappoint his liege should his service be requested. They practiced together a few times after Dimitri accidentally broke a noblewoman’s fingers in his grip, though Dedue never anticipated he would have the occasion to use his training in earnest.

“There is no need to worry.” Dedue led him into a gentle turn, “You are doing fine.”

Dedue partook in a handful of dances between Mercedes and Ashe, though he mostly preferred to watch and indulge in the kitchen’s baked appetizers - fish and vegetables wrapped in pastry that puffed and flaked from the sheer amount of butter folded in. Dedue vanished into the background, as did all the students when each of the house leaders took the floor, dancing perfectly in time. 

Somehow, that all led to here: climbing the worn stone steps of the Goddess Tower with Ashe’s fingers laced between his own. The view from here was incredible. The monastery sprawled out below, dotted with glowing sconces and couples roaming the courtyards, each settling into their secluded corners away from the noise of the ball. Dozens of tiny little candles, flickering in the night, and for all their beauty, Dedue couldn’t pull his eyes away from Ashe.

He had seen Ashe like this before - many times, even. Ashe, with his silver hair glinting under the moonlight, tossed around by the breeze. With his pale green eyes that reflected all the luster of the moon, and all the magic of the starlit sky around. Smooth, snowy skin dappled with freckles, cool under his hands even by the fire. Yes, Dedue had seen Ashe like this many times, yet it never ceased to suck the air from his lungs and render him speechless.

* * *

“Let’s make a wish!” Ashe took one of Dedue’s hands in his own. “You’ve heard the stories, right?”

Ah, stories of the Goddess Tower. Rumors had circulated around the circle many times this month, telling stories of a man and a woman who met and fell in love and were forever bound together by a twist of fate long ago. Superstition claimed that if a man and woman went to the Goddess Tower on the night of the ball and made a wish, the Goddess herself would reach down and grant it. The Fódlan Goddess, that is. Dedue knew relatively little of her nature. If she did watch the land from above, would she even deign to grant a wish to one from Duscur? Their path hardly followed the legend. Two men, meeting at the tower by plan, not chance, and Dedue had already fallen in love with Ashe.

“Yes.” Dedue frowned, “Though neither of us is a woman.”

“I don’t think she’ll mind.” Ashe laughed, easing a few of his doubts. Perhaps the Goddess cared little for technicalities. “The Goddess is kind, and you’re worth granting a wish for.”

“What would we wish for?” Possible wishes rushed through his mind, though only the strongest trickled over the brim to try and fill in his truest desire. In so many words, a plea to keep Ashe safe and by his side. Other wishes - wishes for Dimitri - for another day and another prayer. More wishes still for each of their friends who deserved better than what this world saw fit to stick them with. Was that the Goddess’s will too? 

“I have a wish…” Ashe whispered. Had he already something in mind? Dedue peered down at him, curious. “I want to see Duscur one day - with you!” Such a wish was absurd, beyond even the Goddess’s power to grant, unless she could turn back the hands of time. Duscur was dead and gone. Only fractured, imperfect memories remained - only pieces like Dedue. To hope for more, to hope to show Ashe the pictures he failed to paint with his words… Such a wish was not only futile but destructive. Dedue should know, for he wished it so, so many times before as he cooked his mother’s recipes and told Ashe stories of each god and flower. Duscur was gone. Each sprout of hope wilted and crumbled to dust under the heel of this sobering reality. It was best to stop hoping at all.

“Ashe…” Dedue spoke gently, but earnestly. Calm, as if Ashe couldn’t hear the sadness dripping through or see the anguish knitted in his brow. “Duscur is no more. If we visited the lands, you would see only barren earth.”

“I know it’s gone physically, but you’re still here, so it’s not gone for good, not really…” Ashe sighed, “But you’re right, I wish I could see what it used to be like. One day... Maybe we could rebuild it! Just a little piece.”

“I fear that is impossible.” Dedue shook his head, dangerously close to letting himself hope. Rebuilding Duscur, and with Ashe at his side… No. Dedue promised his life in service of another. “So much was lost. Our people scattered.”

“I know… But the Goddess only grants wishes that people can’t make come true on their own, right? So I want to wish for this.” Ashe smiled so fondly, so innocently, as though he weren’t asking the Goddess to move heaven and earth - to mend the ground where the sky kissed the sea and sing the songs of a land long dead. “What do you say? Let’s wish to see Duscur one day, together!”

“I...” Impossible or not, Dedue couldn’t bring himself to say no. Against all better judgment, he let his hopes bloom once more by Ashe’s hand. “If that is your wish, I will share it.” 

“May I ask for a second wish? From you?” Dedue nodded. Though he was no Goddess, Ashe only need ask, and Dedue would give all he could. “Another dance, before the night ends. Let’s stay out here a little longer.” Dedue smiled, slight but fond as Ashe’s own. This wish, at least, was easy to grant. 

“Of course, _my heart_.” He pulled Ashe into his arms, slowly joining in with the melody of muffled flutes and horns bellowing out from the hall. Practiced steps soon turned into a gentle sway. Ashe and Dedue fell into their own rhythm, a deeper song, something without a proper name. Silent, perfect, and all their own.

* * *

Lone Moon came all too quickly - a time of new beginnings, but not without wicked, bitter ends. The Adrestian Empire - no, Edelgard, a fellow student - declared war against the church. Soon, Imperial forces would march on the monastery. They could only ready their defenses and prepare for the worst. Dedue might only have a few quiet moments left with Ashe; any night could be their last. 

Last. The word alone dripped with pain, sharp and sparking in the bottom of Dedue’s stomach. He had prepared for the notion. He braced himself for the day Ashe might leave - might find someone else or simply turn and believe he was a monster like the rest. Months and months passed. Slowly, Dedue let Ashe tear down his walls, shatter each of the defenses he constructed so carefully. Distance, restraint, then finally, his disbelief. Ashe’s careful, clever fingers picked each lock in turn, slipping aside each plate of armor until he held Dedue’s heart right in his hands.

Dedue had steeled himself for the day Ashe might leave, but never for the day he might be taken away. All he could do was cherish what time they had left. Suggested readings ended weeks ago. Most classes were canceled in favor of training and readying the monastery’s meager defenses. Ashe and Ignatz spent some nights scouting or keeping watch and most days hunting to supply the battalions with fresh food and meat to cure. Dedue and Raphael helped haul boulders to the top of the walls and reinforce each gate or gathered supplies for the blacksmith to reforge weathered blades and worn armor. Nights felt shorter now, and those they spent together were more precious than ever.

Even on the nights Ashe could spare, some hunts ran late. Ashe would tumble into their bed hours after Dedue. Try as he might to stay awake, Dedue’s own weariness often took him first. Those nights, his gentle love would slip under the sheets behind him, pressing sleepy kisses to the nape of his neck and running his fingers along the sore muscles below his shoulder blades. On the best nights, Dedue would wake and lean into his shy embrace and repay his touch in kind. Most nights, Dedue was too weary to wake from his slumber. He would miss the moonlight dancing along Ashe’s skin and the blind kisses along his spine. Yet for all he missed, Dedue woke to Ashe’s arms hooked under his own, draped feather-light across his chest. For Ashe to hold him like this… He felt so terribly _endeared_.

Those nights, they were too tired to worry. Not tonight. Every guarded gate was barricaded with their slim reserves of lumber, every tower stocked with boulders and pitch. Imperial forces drew too close, far too close to hunt or safely scout their position. All they could do was done. All but to wait. Ashe nested in his lap, tracing idle, looping patterns into his shoulders while Dedue stitched together tears in light armor and cloaks.

“Dedue?” Ashe’s fingers trembled. “I…”

“What is it, _my heart_?” Dedue set aside his sewing. Ashe had his full attention, and every word mattered.

“It’s just…” Ashe gazed up at him, eyes glittering under their fading candlelight. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, but… I think this is what it feels like... I love you Dedue, so please don’t die!” 

Love. Yes. It was love - or the closest he’d ever been. It felt too soon to say so, and yet Dedue had never felt such genuine fondness for another, not in this way - a way he hardly had the words to describe. There were words that communicated the basic idea in the Fódlan tongue, but none that felt so natural as the way their bodies fit together, or to tell how the silences that enveloped them carried all the warmth of woolen blankets. Dedue couldn’t find the words for that, not even in his mother tongue.

“I feel the same.” He should say it, so Ashe _knew_. “I love you, Ashe.”

“I-I know you’ll do whatever you must to protect his Highness, and I will too…” Ashe’s voice wavered, “But I don’t want to lose you, alright?”

“You have me, always.” Dedue’s hand slid over his heart, smoothing the cotton below. “Even if I should fall, I am with you. You have grown very strong.”

“Please, don’t say things like that, Dedue.” Ashe let out a choked sob, “I want you _living_. Promise me you’ll come back alive.”

“I…” Dedue was at a loss for words. He couldn’t make that promise. Ashe knew he couldn’t make that promise. Dedue swore to lay down his life for the prince long ago, and he would not go back on that oath now. Love and duty... Dedue knew in his heart the choice he must make. Yet Ashe understood too. He knew the code of chivalry that bound Dedue, that might one day bind Ashe as well, and still, he begged Dedue to make this impossible promise. Were it not Ashe… Were it anyone else, it wouldn’t sting as much.

“I c-can’t lose you too.” Lie, or hurt Ashe.

“I will return to you.” Dedue pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, thumbing away the stray tears that managed to escape. “Alive.”

* * *

Ashe would be a fool to believe him - to believe for a moment that Dedue would put his own safety first and be sure to return to him. Maybe if they just left the monastery now, if they didn’t fight back, then they could all get out safe... But then they would live on the run, never repelling the Empire’s clutches. No... They had to fight. Logically, Ashe knew that but… How much would this battle cost them? How much was Edelgard willing to burn for her ambitions? 

Well, it would be easy to vilify Edelgard, but Ashe couldn’t do that either. She fought for her ideals, though they clashed with Ashe’s own. In the end, how different was she from Lonato? Still, it wasn’t right to bring all of these innocent people into the crossfire. They would fight back - right until the very end, even if it meant giving their own lives 

He did, though - believe Dedue, that is. Ashe had to believe him because he couldn’t bring himself to think of Dedue falling in battle. And because, if he did, Ashe would feel tempted to run into the fray and fall alongside him. Perhaps it was a naive thought, something straight from the storybooks Ashe loved, but if Dedue had to… If Dedue had to die, then Ashe would only ask it be by his side, in his arms.

Perhaps that was a foolish wish. In all their battles, Ashe would always shoot from the back lines while Dedue drew enemy aggression up ahead. The Professor wouldn’t hear of him joining their fighters in the front, so Ashe could only aid him with shots from afar. He didn’t know any healing magic, so he wouldn’t really be much use if Dedue got hurt - but Ashe wanted to be there anyway. He wanted to stay at his side, always - that was their promise, right?

There was something else, though. Something they mentioned in tales of knights and heroes. Ashe fished around in his satchel, long since abandoned by the side of the bed. Spare pencils, a tin of tea leaves, mineral oil… Aha! Ashe’s fingers finally brushed up against a thin, velvety thing. He fished out a small square of lilac silk.

“I know it’s silly but…” Ashe pressed the silk into his warm, calloused palm. “Take it with you to battle, please. And then, um, I’ll be right beside you.” Just a touch of softness, something he could hold and keep. Dedue began to unfold it, ever so delicate with his touch, as though the fabric were a piece of Ashe himself. A small violet bloomed in the center of the fabric, embroidered with silvery thread and woven sage vines bordering the edge. Some stitches pulled too tight and a few crossed over the wrong threads, but nothing that showed. Perfectly beautiful on the surface, yet Ashe saw all the mistakes. Dedue wouldn’t mind; Ashe knew he wouldn’t mind at all, but he wanted it to be perfect for him. It would be, if they just had more time.

“It is lovely.” He flushed as Dedue raised it to his lips, inhaling the delicate lavender perfume. “Thank you.”

“Mercie showed me how.” Ashe beamed. He’d taken to sewing quite well, and he already had the basics down from patching up little tears in his siblings’ clothes so they would last longer. The artistry would take some practice, but maybe one day, when they had quiet afternoons, he could learn. “You have to bring it back to me when this is all over, so I can make you another one with Duscur colors.”

_So you have to stay alive._

“Of course. I must give you a token as well.”

“Oh, Dedue, that’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“I wish to.” Dedue smiled, “Is there anything you would like?”

"Hmm… Anything that reminds me of you, really! I would want something like your flowers or your food but… Well, they don't last." Ashe sighed, "Something just like you, Dedue."

Something just like Dedue… That was unfair to ask for because nothing and nobody in the world was quite like Dedue. Not in the ways Ashe had grown to know. He'd never met anyone so strong and gentle all at once. So quiet and noble… Dedue gave every part of himself and asked for nothing in return. That kindness… That patient generosity and freely-given tenderness... That was why Ashe was so happy to finally give Dedue a token of his, a piece concrete enough that Dedue could keep it with him always.

Cool metal slid into his palm, smooth to the touch save for symmetrical ridges down the sides. Ashe stared down at the ornate bronze earring in his hand. Dedue’s bronze earring. The earring belonging to Dedue, which he took off only for sleep. Carved and cast in a traditional Duscur design - one of the only pieces of his homeland Dedue had managed to save. And he would give it up?

"Dedue, this-"

"It is yours.” His? For… For him? To keep?

"W-what? You're giving this to me?" Ashe stammered, caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. "No… I can't accept this... You have so little left of Duscur, I can't take this from you!"

"It is my wish." Dedue shook his head. "Such a gift is long overdue."

"B-but I won't be able to wear it…" Ashe frowned, "My ears aren’t pierced like yours." This still didn’t seem right. Such lovely jewelry would be wasted on him! Besides, it probably looked better on Dedue. The bronze against his skin was so lovely, after all, especially when it caught the light and glimmered rose-gold. He carried it well, despite how heavy it must be. Ashe… Ashe would probably just look silly trying to pull it off.

Dedue reached over the desk, procuring a small coil of leather cord from one of its drawers. He slipped the charm onto a length of braided leather, threading the line into a loop where the bronze hook met its base. He sliced off the slack with a worn hand axe. 

"You may wear it around your neck if you like." Dedue held it to his chest, loosely fastening the cord around Ashe’s neck. "Here, above your heart." The makeshift pendant slipped behind his cotton tunic, low enough to hide away from grappling brawlers and find shelter from the elements. While it was lighter than Ashe expected, the amulet had a comforting weight to it. Maybe it wasn’t built to protect evil spirits like the one he used to wear, but... If this was a piece of Dedue, surely it would keep him safe all the same. Safer, probably! 

“Dedue, I… Is this really alright with you?”

“I cannot think of a better person to wear it than you, Ashe.” Dedue smiled, 

“Then I’ll wear it proudly.” Ashe would have to see about getting a proper fastener later. The loose leather knot would surely begin to fray if Ashe never took it off - and he was _never_ taking it off.

* * *

Cinnamon and smoky incense. Ginger tea, soft firelight, and Ashe - a vision in red silks embroidered with golden threads. Dedue couldn’t make out the patterns, he never imagined them in much detail. Even the finest crystal beads and the most exquisite threading could never compete with the starry patterns of Ashe’s freckles. Duscur silks were much more modest than those of Fódlan dancers; only a small band of ivory skin peeked out from the sheer fabric around his waist.

Ashe ran his hand along a patch of soft chestnut fur above their bedroll, leaving a trail of fuss in the wake of each of his slender fingers. He lay back, lounging across blankets of mixed pelts sewn together to combat even the coldest winters Duscur could summon. Auburn violets and lace wrapped around his hands - ornate patterns painstakingly drawn into mehndi. 

A dream, of course. It was obvious. Years must have passed, though they did no disservice to Ashe. Such a sight would be saved only for Dedue’s innermost fantasies when he slipped into an impossible reverie and let himself muse on perfect, unattainable futures.

_“Come here, my heart.”_ Ashe whispered. In his dreams, Ashe’s gentle lilt flowed into the Duscur tongue - words and sounds he’d lost for many years now. He carried them well, mastering them with his own flavor as he did each of Dedue’s recipes. Just this… this would be enough. _“You’re staring.”_

And how could he not? Each subtle movement shifted his silks and cast firelight across canvas-covered walls.

_“My apologies.”_ Dedue knelt beside his love, captive to sage-colored eyes and gentle fingers lacing through his hair. _“I find it difficult to look anywhere else.”_

_“Really? I’m not much to look at...”_ Ashe flushed. His cool fingers hooked under the high, fur-lined collar of Dedue’s thicker robes. _“Compared to you, that is!”_ His arms coiled around the little archer’s waist, pulling him close. Dedue had long memorized the way Ashe felt in his lap - softer than the finest silks and light as the autumn breeze. Silver hair brushed up against his neck, and Ashe sighed so sweetly as he drifted back into Dedue’s chest, quiet in their moment of stillness. 

__

_“You are quite lovely.”_ Dedue smiled into the curve of his neck, delighted by each little shiver and gasp he drew out with his lips. Incense hung heavy in the air, nearly masking his lavender soaps. Dedue tasted salt and ash lingering on his skin from Duscur rituals.

Ashe handed him a small wooden box carved with Duscuran runes - scarlet powder made of turmeric and slaked lime. A dream; still a dream, so why did he feel such anticipation? Each day after this - in the _dream_, Dedue reminded himself - in the life that he imagined for them, Ashe would press rouge into the part of his hair as a vibrant marking that he was taken. That Dedue lived, and their love flowed swift and mighty as a rushing river. But today, the first time, Dedue would have the honor.

_"What does it mean?"_

_"Life and love."_ Dedue smiled. He pinched a small bit of the vermillion between his fingers. _"And that we belong to each other.”_

_"Do the gods not know that I'm yours, Dedue?"_ Ashe pouted, _"I have been for a long while! But I know there’s a lot of ceremonies we couldn’t do exactly right…"_

_"They know."_ He let out a low chuckle, rumbling against Ashe's back. _"This is for man."_ Dedue pressed the powder into the part of his hair. A small spot at first, then a flare spreading across his part, blooming at his hairline. Ashe watched Dedue from a polished bronze mirror, mesmerized as the dye spread through his hair. Slate blues and soft violet often suited him, but the red burned so impossibly bright against his pale and silver. Dedue set the box aside and let himself bask in the mirror's view. Ashe rested his head in the crook of his neck, cheeks nearly matching the vermilion pressed into his hair. 

_"I am yours,"_ Ashe breathed, _"And you are mine."_ Ashe pushed himself up, unfurling himself from the cozy warmth of Dedue's arms. _"I… Is it alright if I do the same?"_

The same? Well, the notion… Dedue could find no faults; it was precisely as Ashe said. They belonged to each other equally. Dedue nodded. 

_"Thank you, my heart."_ Ashe giggled, _"I wouldn't want anyone else thinking they had a chance."_ Ashe carefully loosened his hair tie and brushed sheaves of coarse hair to each side. He pinched the scarlet powder between his fingers, just as Dedue had, then pressed it between his parted white locks. He staked his claim in vermillion and kisses along the Duscur man’s temple, then ventured lower, running plush lips along his jawline, and lower still along his own chapped lips. 

Ashe pressed him down, guiding his back onto the furs. Enchanting. Sage eyes above his glimmered with desire so tender that Dedue found himself nothing short of spellbound. Ashe's lips wandered along his pulse, lithe fingers treading hidden paths over his chest. Dedue’s hands slipped under the crimson silks, settling so easily at his hips to steady Ashe when he reached for more and more. 

A dream, where Dedue tasted honey and fire. 

* * *

The Empire’s forces finally marched on Garreg Mach. Nothing was soft anymore. Thick clouds of soot swirled around the monastery, rolling up towards a cracked sky. Smoke and fire. Screams rang out all through the monastery, scattered as the torches at night. Cries of battle, cries of pain - they strung together, blending into the cacophonous melody of war. 

Ashe and Ingrid carried students away on their mounts while Dedue, Dimitri, and the Professor held enemies at bay from the front lines. It was no real surprise they should get separated. Really, Ashe shouldn’t be shocked at all. He should have prepared for this part better. By the end of the battle, he should have steeled himself for the white flag and orders to scatter to the wind. The Professor would know best, so they must have known how to save Dedue, right? 

Dedue was a strong man, he wouldn’t go down so easily… But there had been so, so many dark mages, and those terrible beasts! He was strong, but the odds were stacked so heavily against them, how could he have possibly survived? 

And if he had - if by some miracle the Goddess had really, truly listened to his prayers - then Dedue would have found him after the battle, and he hadn't. Years passed, and Dedue hadn’t returned to him, alive or dead. Ashe told himself he could make do, that he could be happy for the time the Goddess gave them and not be so selfish as to ask for more. Gratitude… Yes, he should focus on being grateful for those tender moons, and not bitter that they passed all too quickly. 

Dedue’s words and touch lived only in his memories now. Ashe’s imagination could hardly do him justice, at least, not after holding Dedue in his arms in earnest. On sunny days, he wore his amulet above his tunic and cloaks and let the sun heat the bronze. When he slipped it beneath his tunic again, Ashe could close his eyes and pretend it was Dedue’s hand over his heart. It was a touch too small and far too smooth, yet the warmth and gentle weight were just like him, if he could just pretend... 

He carried Dedue's heart beside his for so many moons. Years passed, and Ashe should let go, but he couldn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end - for now! It's certainly bittersweet, although life often is. I have a few projects planned for the immediate future, one of which will be a during-time skip sequel to this fic. Of course I can't leave it like _that_! I'll post another update here when that starts, or I'm sure you'll see it pop up while refreshing the Dedue/Ashe tag. :)
> 
> While this fic is done, there are a few scenes that got cut because I didn't think they fit well where I planned to write them. I'll be posting those as bonus chapters whenever I get around to it. One of them will be Felix-centric, so look forward to that.
> 
> Thank you all for coming with me on this adventure, and I'm looking forward to the next half!
> 
> \---
> 
> I wrote this because I think it's a story worth telling, even if some parts are gross and painful and not at all fluffy. Even the ugliest parts of our lives are worth talking and writing about, especially if that writing can help others process feelings or even just feel seen. I hope that anyone who can relate to parts of this story can find some comfort in the writing, or at least knows that I write it from a place of care and respect.
> 
> This story talks about assault by strangers, though that's not actually the case for most victims of sexual assault. Things are often more complex, so much so that survivors (especially men) might not realize think their experience 'counts'. Healing takes a lot of strength, and most of us don't have a Dedue in our lives, so if you or someone you know is going through something similar, don't be afraid to reach out! Here's a few national (USA) resources for people at any stage in the process:
> 
> RAINN  
https://www.rainn.org
> 
> National Sexual Violence Resource Center  
https://www.nsvrc.org
> 
> Day One  
https://dayoneservices.org
> 
> National Sexual Assault Hotline (They have a text chat too!)  
1-800-656-4673


	13. Duet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A change of pace, and another side of the story.

Idiotic. Completely, incomprehensibly idiotic. Some mysterious, horrifying curse ravaged Remire Village, apparently concocted by a demon wearing the old librarian’s skin, and in response, the monastery decided to hold a ball? A ball that, apparently, the Professor expected Felix to _dance_ in. Fools, every last one. Sword dancing? Sure, maybe it made sense for Dorothea or Professor Manuela - you know, actual trained dancers who cared about their looks and grace and whatever the fuck else you worry about as a songstress. But Felix?

Ugh. He was going to look like an idiot.

_“Nervous for the big day? I can help you practice, babe.” Sylvain winked at him, presumably attempting to lure Felix into his foul clutches in whatever way he could._

_“Absolutely not.” Felix had snapped back. It took every fiber of his practiced discipline not to knock him flat with the butt of his training sword._

Still…

Sometime after most students scattered for supper, Felix slunk into the deserted training grounds, determined to at least get a feel for the motions. Abhorrent as the idea may be, the Professor was generally competent, so this was unlikely to be a complete loss. Even learning reason magic had some value, skeptical as Felix had been. For now, for the next hour and change, Felix decided to suspend his disbelief. The flowing sweep of a sword in flight was not so different from a dance. Both took skill and dexterity. Swords and dances alike might share a notion of disciplined movements and bodily awareness. Each step should be careful and practiced - perfect lest he miss his mark. If he could master his footwork in a duel, could a dance really be so different?

Of course it could. This was foolish. He hardly knew where to place his feet, much less how to move in an ‘inspiring’ way. The dance assigned for the White Heron Cup was meant for partners, though they would all perform their parts alone. Of course, Felix should know the steps, but he adamantly refused to retain noble training he deemed worthless - and dancing was worthless, then and now. 

Footsteps. Felix stiffened, nearly jumping away from the tile he was currently ‘dancing’ on. Meandering, more like. There was nothing that could really incriminate him, but the reflex was there all the same. It wouldn’t be the first time he came to the training grounds to simply pause and think. The footsteps came closer - metal clanking. Felix relaxed, just an ounce. Only the boar was odd enough to wear those metal boots of his off the battlefield.

“Ah, Felix.” Dimitri passed through the columns, striding over to a rack of practice lances. “Are you here to train?” 

“Obviously.”

“Brawling, then? I thought you decided to focus on sword training?” Dimitri tested the weight of a few practice lances, settling on one that seemed sturdy enough.

“The Professor is forcing me to learn another skill.” Felix grit his teeth, heading towards the door, “I don’t need to use the grounds for it.”

“Wait, Felix,” Dimitri set the lance down, “I do not mean to run you out of the grounds. Please, do not let me disturb your training. I will leave if you wish.” Felix’s feet faltered just short of the door, betraying him. This leaden feeling… Disgusting. They had come so far, damn it all, Felix could at least _try_ not to force him away this time.

“Dancing.” Felix caved. He could give just a little if it helped. Would it help?

“What?”

“The Professor wants me to train for this Dancer class nonsense.” Felix scoffed, “Supposedly _dancing_ in the middle of a battlefield will ‘boost morale’. Absurd.”

“A-ah.” Dimitri stuttered, “You do move rather gracefully.” Idiot. But… It’s okay if it’s just him - if they’re alone like this. If he shuts up and lets Felix pretend. 

“Not another fucking word, boar.” Felix scoffed, “You can stay as long as you make yourself useful.” Dimitri quirked an eyebrow, confused even as the swordsman dragged him to the center of the grounds. Felix placed a hand on one obnoxiously tall shoulder and gripped a cold gauntlet in the other. “It’s just a waltz. I know you learned the steps.

“You are... practicing the woman’s part?” Even while pointedly avoiding those obnoxious, cornflower blue eyes of his, he could see the color spreading across Dimitri’s cheeks. Felix probably looked much the same. How loathsome...

“I will end you.” Felix seethed. Still, Dimitri’s steel-clad hand settled between his shoulder blades, and it was all he could to bite back a mortifying shiver. Long ago, he would have dreamed of Dimitri holding him like this. The royal prince would whisk him away to a starlit ball and they would dance together through the night. Dimitri would beam and tell everyone that he and Felix were betrothed, and Felix would kiss him without shame. When all the king’s guests filtered out of the ballroom, Dimitri would stare into his eyes and hear only the sweet words Felix whispered into his neck as they swayed in time. 

In his dreams, he wouldn’t hear the voices. In those laughable, foolish fantasies Felix still clung to, their world hadn’t crumbled yet. Dimitri was whole and his.

Did he hear them now, as they moved together in an unsteady waltz? Dimitri moved just a touch off-beat, and Felix hadn’t practiced the steps enough to know them without looking at his feet. The boar lost that air of effortless, princely confidence in the tragedy. 

He wasn’t their leader, in the past. No, they all followed Sylvain and Glenn around the town, pestering the older boys for games and sweets - silly, childish things. Even when they got older, Dimitri was always happy to look and listen elsewhere - he didn’t like the attention as much as Sylvain, or even Felix did. Though not bold, he was kind and thoughtful. He listened to the others and always tried his best to make everyone happy. He shared his sweet buns with Ingrid and his fried pheasant with Felix. He knew all the castle staff by name and greeted them, even if he couldn’t pronounce all their surnames correctly. He would try anything that Glenn suggested in training, and wouldn’t cry if he failed. Prince Dimitri wasn’t so audacious, but he would have become an excellent, honorable king. In all the ways that mattered, he was perfect, or Felix thought so. He would have to grow into the attention as prince, but it all came too fast. 

His grip around Felix’s hand tightened, metal fingers dug into his back. Dimitri looked nervous enough to bite his own tongue out.

“Claws, beast.” Felix hissed.

“Ah, my apologies.” Dimitri loosened his grip until it was little more than the ghost of a touch between Felix’s shoulder blades. Perhaps that came out too harshly. Felix was no master of words, least of all when he spoke them to Dimitri.

“I’m not saying you can’t touch me,” Felix coughed, “Just try to be more careful...” Whenever they sparred, Dimitri left bruises in his wake; it was only recently, and only once that the bruises came with soft, apologetic kisses, and touches so gentle Felix wanted to strangle him. 

It had been after a heated sparring match, and Felix didn’t know how else to handle his fire but let it burn. It was sudden when Dimitri sent a dozen blunted training swords clattering to the ground to take Felix against the table where they once lie so neatly in a row. It was painful, and far too passionate when Felix let go and accidentally sent thunder crackling across his shoulders, and Dimitri pressed bruises into his hips because he really had no sense of his own strength. It was far, far too nauseatingly tender when Felix cried out his name - his _name_ for the first time in years - and Dimitri looked at him in that way, like he was so fucking… enchanted by him. He was ridiculous. These _feelings_ were ridiculous - enough so that Felix thought of words like ‘enchanted’. But that damned look, and the sweetest kisses, as though Felix had done anything but hurt him in the past few years.

“This is the first time we have danced since we were children.”

“There haven’t been many opportunities for dancing, idiot.” Felix buried his face in Dimitri’s chest because surely he couldn’t keep looking at _him_. Dimitri looked every bit the dashing prince Felix had fallen for so many years ago, over and over again when he wore his heart on his sleeve and smiled so readily. 

Felix had never fallen out of love with him, not truly, and that was what hurt the most. Loving a monster. Loving a cracked shell of his prince who would fill the ocean with bodies if it brought him vengeance. Was it even vengeance he hungered for, or just blood? He should hate Dimitri, but he didn’t. He should despise this bloody beast that took his lion and turned him into a ruthless boar, but he didn’t. Felix still loved, and he hated that he loved. His heart hurt. It twisted and shriveled and burst all at once when he was near, but the worse pain would be Dimitri backing away, crawling back into that pit where he was afraid to touch Felix out of fear of hurting him.

Moments like this, he could almost forget about the beast, and sway within the prince’s arms, breathing in the fresh linen of his tunic and mineral oils he used to polish his blades. Dimitri pulled the tie in his hair loose. Felix let it fall, but not without an irritated grumble. Thick, gloved fingers carded through his hair, because Dimitri was a fool, and hadn’t thought to take those damned gauntlets off.

When Felix looked up, Dimitri was mesmerized, absolutely entranced by the way Felix’s hair fell through his gauntleted fingers. _Enchanted_. Idiot. Could he even feel it that way? Not that Felix gave a damn if Dimitri felt how soft his hair was. Dimitri had that look on his face, so full of light and he just _knew_ something stupid was about to fall out of those lips and ruin the moment. 

“Felix, would you accompany me to the ball?” Right. Something stupid. Not in a million years would Felix join Dimitri at the ball, not even for the finest, sharpest silver sword crafted by Zoltan. Well, _maybe_ for a Zoltan master-crafted sword, but it would still be a difficult decision. But Dimitri wouldn’t understand his reasons. He only saw the hurt and not the love that caused it. Felix didn’t even understand his own reasons, but that was beside the point.

“No.” Dimitri’s face fell. 

“I see.”

“But… I won’t go with anyone else.” Felix looked away, “And I’ll… Ugh, I’ll save you a dance… Or whatever...”

“You do not owe me that much, Felix. I understand if you would rather not be seen with me.” Dimitri shook his head, “I have not proven myself worthy of that, though I will try to-”

“Boar… Dimitri.” The prince snapped up at that. He looked so vulnerable, his eyes so full of doubt. Felix hated it. He absolutely, unequivocally hated Dimitri like this. Why did he have so much power over those eyes, like the power the prince had over his heart? When it hurt the most, Felix would lash out. For his part, Dimitri never hurt anyone but himself like this, and yet Felix would prefer pain and anger over his miserable self-flagellation. Anything else, he didn’t care if it hurt if it just spared him this wallowing. Felix was no better. Just like Dimitri, he’d fuck it all up. He’d crumble Dimitri’s heart between his clumsy, too-sharp hands and overly blunt tongue. “I… I need time, that’s all.”

“Do you regret-”

“No.” Felix forced himself to look upwards, to meet Dimitri’s eyes, if only for a moment. He could at least do this much. “I don’t. Now shut up, and just…” 

Just what? What did Felix want him to do? What could Felix even say? Every time he - either of them - tried to speak, it just came out wrong. For once, he didn’t _want_ to hurt Dimitri, he just didn’t know how _not_ to. Where words failed him, his actions would have to do. Felix leaned up and replaced whatever snarky, deflecting quip he might have said with a much more honest kiss. 

“Felix…” So damn enamored… Felix pushed him back, just far enough to properly waltz.

“Please shut up... And...” Felix nudged one of his feet.

_…Dance with me._


	14. Author's Note - Warming Spices (Part 2)

Hey guys, the first chapter to Warming Spices, the second part of this series, is posted here:  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257448/chapters/53148409

This part of the story takes place during the time skip and focuses on what exactly might have happened during those five long years...

Go read it (if you want to, that is)! I'll still be posting the other deleted scenes here when I get around to it. :)


	15. Repose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of the deleted scenes, this time more Ashedue (and not practically a whole fic in itself). This originally went in Chapter 8, but I decided to go a different way with things. Enjoy :)

Fearsome dark knights of death clad in pitch-black armor, spooky mages sneaking around in the shadows, and now Remire… Strange things have been happening lately. The whole monastery was abuzz - was it some kind of conspiracy? Was it a plague? Or something far darker? It could even be a… a curse! Ashe shivered at the thought clutching his amulet close. No, it probably wasn’t a curse. The people of Remire had been kind to Jeralt and the Professor, so the Goddess wouldn’t curse them, would she? But maybe one of those mages had the power to curse an entire village!

Bandits were one thing, but if they were up against some kind of dark magic?! Well, Ashe hoped no one would be hurt too badly. If they were, then Mercedes could surely patch them up, but he hoped it never got to that point! After Flayn’s disappearance, the whole class trained tirelessly to be strong enough to face the shadows and drive them away from the monastery. Jertiza… He was their fencing instructor, and yet he was supposedly the one behind Flayn’s kidnapping? No corner of the monastery felt safe these days. Everyone was on high alert, even the Professor! They always seemed so unflappable, but Ashe supposed that this mission meant a lot to them, too, on top of how scary it all seemed.

Mercedes suspended her archery training to focus on advanced faith magic - with enough practice, she might be able to break the curse, if that’s what it was. Annette helped Ashe with his tactics lessons - especially with all the troop positioning calculations that never quite fit right in his head. Who knew sieges were so complicated? Well, hopefully, they’d never have to defend the monastery from a ‘frontal assault’...

Dedue… Well, Dedue was very Dedue about things. While everyone else focused on training and studying, Dedue glued their class together with hearty meals and careful attention to everyone’s needs. Though begrudgingly, Felix even thanked him for keeping the training swords well-maintained. But all that plus his own training to ace his fortress knight certification meant Dedue wasn’t taking care of _himself_! At least, not as much as he should. Dedue deserved a break, and he was going to get one, even if he was dead set on running himself ragged.

And, well, er, Ashe had done what he could. Over the past few weeks, he’d spent a few - well maybe more than just a few days sleeping beside Dedue - because it helped! And if it helped Ashe too, then that was even better! But that didn’t stop Dedue from leaving at the crack of dawn to start his duties, and only returning to bed at curfew. Ugh. Ashe would have to resort to guerilla tactics, as per Annette’s instruction.

Ashe finally cornered him in the gardens. This should be a zone of peace for Dedue - more than that, almost like a temple, really, but the Professor was counting on fresh vegetables for the kitchens for the next few weeks. It seemed a little silly, but home-cooked meals really helped them train even harder! Still, Dedue could only do so much - the greenhouse enchantments would take care of the rest at this point. But Dedue wasn’t really doing it because he needed to, was he? Ashe knew him too well by now. Dedue was doing this because he was Dedue, and the Dedue Law proclaims that the amount of things to do is directly proportional to the hours of daylight in the day, and if it’s bright out, Dedue has to be _doing_ something.

“Dedue.” Ashe attempted his sternest voice, the one he would use with his little brother and sister when they weren’t playing nicely with each other. Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t that _stern_, but he couldn’t be _that_ stern with Dedue.

“Ashe?” Dedue wiped sweat from his brow, careful not to smudge his face with soil, though strands of his hair had begun to slip out from his tie. “My apologies, I have been quite busy.”

“I know.” Ashe frowned. “You need to slow down and rest more. I know there’s a lot going on, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”

“The Professor has requested-”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables, I know.” Ashe shook his head, “But you can’t make them grow any faster, Dedue, so you can relax! Let the runes do their magic!”

Dedue sighed, accepting defeat. “Then what would you have me do?”

“You are…” Ashe put the most serious face he could manage, “Going to take a nap! Rest your eyes for a little while, then I’ll let you go back to work.”

“A… nap?” Dedue blinked. “Here?” Ah, well, there was that. Ashe cracked into a giggle. He had brought his cloak, though the greenhouse was certainly warm enough with the magic the monastery used. But then, there was the matter of the floor being very, well, not a mattress. So much for guerilla tactics.

“Um, yes!” No matter, Ashe could be his pillow. Ashe draped the cloak over the worn tile floor, taking a seat near one of the flowerbeds as he tugged a very skeptical Dedue down to sit with him. “Alright, now lay your head in my lap.” Dedue reddened, but complied with the request. “Comfortable?”

“It is not the worst sleeping arrangement I have suffered.” Dedue conceded. Ashe freed his hair from the tie, gently combing it with his fingers.

“Better than the missions, right?” Ashe smiled. “Those tents are the worst.” Ashe plucked a lily from one of the nearby plants, tucking it behind Dedue’s ear. The flowers looked strangely natural in his hair, as if Ashe had imagined them a thousand times before. Or like he had imagined those emerald eyes gazing up into his own… Ugh, that wasn’t why Ashe came to the greenhouse! This was about Dedue!

“Get some rest.”

“I am resting.” Dedue snorted.

“It doesn’t count if you’re not closing your eyes!” Ashe protested, “You promised.”

“I made no such promise.” And yet, despite his objection, Dedue’s eyes slid shut. Ashe pulled a strategy book out of his bag, flipping to where he and Annette had left off.

“Thank you.” Ashe smiled. In all honesty, he had expected more of a fight from the Duscur man, but he couldn’t really complain, could he? Dedue was right where Ashe wanted him.

* * *

“Pay up.” Sylvain held out his hand with a shit-eating grin.

“Ridiculous,” Ingrid huffed, “You are ridiculous.”

“Mad because I’m right?” Sylvain laughed, “Come on, Ingrid, it’s not very knightly to go back on your word. A bet is a bet.” Ingrid sighed and dropped a few coins into his palm.

“Now if you want to double down, I’ve heard Dimitri and-”

“Sylvain!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't caught up with the series, Chapter 2 of the sequel is out as we speak here:  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257448/chapters/53475838
> 
> I'm on twitter now: @hanatamagos  
Talk to me or at me about Ashedue :)

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
[@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos)


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